Becoming Other: From Social Interaction to Self-Reflection

Becoming Other From Social Interaction to Self-Reflection

a volume in Advances In Cultural Psychology Editor: . . Series -, m

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Advances In Cultural Psychology Jaan Valsiner, Series Editor

Transilions: Development Through Symbolic Resources (2005) by Tania Zittoun Challenges and Strateg.iesfor Studying Human Developmen! in Cultural Contexts (2005) edited by Cynthis Lightfoot

Becoming Other

Becoming Other: From Social Interaction to Self&Jection (2006) by Alex Gillespie Otherness in Question: Development of the Self edited by Livia Simao and Jaan Valsiner (in press)

From Social Interaction to Self-Reflection

by

Alex Gillespie University o f Stirling

INFORMATION AGE PUBLISHING

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Gillespie, Alex, Ph. D. Becoming other : from social interaction to self-reflection 1 by Alex GilIespie. p. cm. -- (Advances in cultural psychology) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN-13: 978-1-593 11-230-1 (pbk.) ISBN-13: 978-1-593 11-231-8 (hardcover) 1. Acculturation--India--Ladakh.2. Ladakhi (South Asian people)--Psychology. 3. Tourists--India--Ladakh--Pyschology. 4. Tourism--India--Ladakh--Psychological aspects. I. Title. HM841 .G55 2006 306.4'81909546--dc22 20060 19758 ISBN 13: 978-1-593 11-230-1 (pbk.) 978-1-59311-231-8 (hardcover) ISBN 10: 1-59311-230-0 (pbk.) 1-59311-231-9 (hardcover)

Copyright O 2006 IAP-Information Age Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

Yoti ask so ntany qztestions, dolt 7 yoti knotl~that ~dleltyon point yozrr,firtger at me, tltree ofyozrr onnfingers are poilrtirtg back at yozr?

-Ladakhi

monk at Phyang gotnpa

CONTENTS Preface Editor's Introduction: The Social Act of the Social Sciences: Touring the Minds of Recreational Nomads Jaan Valsiner Transcription Conventions

1. The Social Act 2. Elaborations and Questions 3. Tourism in Ladakh

4. The Touring Act

5. Listening to Tourists 6. Listening to Ladakhis

7. First Analysis: Genealogy 8. Tourist Self and Ladakhi Other 9. Ladakhi Self and Tourist Other 10. Second Analysis: Becoming Other

11. Internal Dialogues 12. Self-Reflection

13. Becoming Other to Oneself References

PREFACE The research reported in this book is unapologetically Meadian. While the work of George Herbert Mead has been of widespread significance, and his name is ol'tcn cited, there are in fact few empirical studies that have sougllt to rigor-ously instantiate his ideas. This is in part bccausc his theory is abstruse and in part because there ha\~ebeen so nlany divergent interpretations of his theory. The point of departure for the present research is a novel interpretation of Mead. Mead's core problematic, I argue, is how to explain self-reflection, and his answer to this is the tlleoiy of the social act. The present research is an attempt to instantiate this reading. The empirical context for the reported research is the iilteraction between tourists and Ladakhis in the Indian Himalaya. Ladakh is a remote region and tourists visit in order to cxpcrience the remoteness, the I-limalaya, and the reputcclly tratlitional Buddhist culture of Laclakh. Specifically I am interested in how this interaction betweeri two radically different groups has triggered mutual self-reflection, and the eillcrgence of new situated identities. The research will follo~v tourist-Ladakhi encounters from the interpersonal realm into the intrapsychological realm, from social interaction into internal dialogues and self-reflection. Self-reflection I take to be one of the most important and uniquely human mental dynamics. In the moment of self-reflection one can find agency, identity, and development. My argument, along with Mead, is that self-reflection is patterned by our institutional interactions. But the argument is not simply that external interaction or conversation becomes internal conversation. The theoiy of thc social act is an account of liolv an individual's social experience is trat1sfo1-n~ed into internal dialogue.

Becoming Other xi

The theory is presented in chapters 1 and 2. The first chapter introduces Mead's theory of the social act, while the second chapter elaborates upon this and turns the theory into a set of tractable questions. The first chapter is theoretically heavy, introducing the central concepts that shape the subsequent analysis, namely, the social act, position exchange, the vocal gesture, the significant symbol, and the Itme dynamic. The second chapter leads to two empirical questions. First, how are tourists and Ladakhis taking each others' perspectives? Second, is this perspective-taking resulting in new instances of self-reflection? Chapters 3 and 4 introduce tourism in Ladakh, and use Mead's theory of the social act to conceptualize tourist-Ladakhi encounters (the touring act). The photographing act, the sightseeing act, the serving act, and the self-narration act are described in detail. Chapters 5 and 6 enter into the discursive worlds of tourists and Ladakhis, mapping out how each talks about themselves and the other. The data presented in these chapters forms the basis for the two subsequent analyses. The first analysis is introduced in chapter '7 and carried out in chapters 8 and 9. The question addressed is: Are tourists and Ladakhis talking about themselves by taking each others' perspectives? Chapter 8 argues that tourists talk about themselves by taking the perspective of other tourists, and they are able to do this relatively easily because they themselves are tourists. Chapter 9 contends that Ladakhis' sense of themselves as cultural arises largely from their taking the perspective of tourists. The interesting point here, however, is that Ladakhis have never been in the social position of tourists so they have had to imaginatively reconstruct the perspective of tourists using their own experiences. The second analysis concerns the microdynamics of self-reflection and is presented in chapters 10, 11, and 12. Chapter 10 makes the case for analyzing talk as thought, thus enabling us to gather objectively analyzable instances of self-reflection. Chapter 11 analyses Ladakhis and tourists having internal dialogues with each other, and identifies how these internal dialogues can lead to self-reflection. Chapter 12 analyses instances of self-reflection in terms of perspective-taking, distinguishing two types of self reflection, and arguing that both are explicable in terms of Mead's concept of the significant symbol. The final chapter broadens out beyond a narrowly, and maybe obsessively, Meadian standpoint and entertains alternative explanations of the data. The issue at stake is to explain how there can be a shift of perspective in the stream of thought-how self can "step out" of ongoing action and self-reflect. In self-reflection we experience ourselves in the same way that we experience ocher people: we become other to ourselves. Reading over this book, I find it alive with voices other than mine. The origins of some of these voices are fully identifiable, being quoted from

published work. Others I hear echoing through my rvords, no longer separable from my own voice, as I am fortunate to have appropriated them as part of my own intellectual development. My interest in Mead stems from Rob Farr's inspirational and rigorous teaching. The present book is an attempt to advance that theoiy through empirical research. In this project I have been fortunate to have the support of Gerard Duveen, who has mediated the research from the outset, and saved me from many weaker formulations. My rcacling of Meacl is inflected with my understanding of the effect of the social context on thc production of knowledge, which I have learnt fiom Sandra Jovcl~elovitch. Tania Zittotun has continually reminded me of the importance of the psychological, and has stimulated my awareness of the role of imagination, play and fiction in everyday life. Evin 0 Riordiin has asked difficult questions leading me to wonder why 011 earth psycl~ologistsgo about things the way they do. I thank Mhairi Burden, Gerard Duveen, Evin
xii A. CILLESPIE

and You, Punchok from Saspol, and Stanzin from Skara. Fieldwork in Ladakh has been less efforthl and more eventhl than any other site I have experienced. Both Ladakhi and tourist participants were facilitating and frank. They generously gave their time, ideas, and photographs. I hope their voices survive my analyses and sound as good-willed, humorous, and ingenious as they are. Financial support for this work has been provided by an Economic and Social Research Council reseal-ch studentship and a Peterhouse research studentship. I would also like to acknowledge Cambridge University Press, Ethos, Human Devel@ment, and JournaLfor the Theory of Social Behaviour for permission to reprint portions of my prior publications.

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION THE SOCIAL ACT OF THE SOCIAL SCIENCES Touring the Minds of Recreational Nomads

The reader of this book is about to enter into the multitude of life-worlds of ordinary human beings who undertake extraordinary journeys. They need their individual identities to be reconstructed by exposure to unique human environments of the beauty of closeness to nature-and partake in the assumed idyllic lives of the people who live "close to nature." So they read tourist guides, travel hooks, and then undertake the long journey to the vast beauty of the Tibetan Plateau to accomplish that goal. Yet the goal of reacllixig the desired state of "being one with tlie nature" evades them. They end up in a crowd of other tourists, touring the same sites, buying the satne souvenirs-and through all of that-creating their unique experiences. They are a new kind of nomads-recreational travellers in the search of procreation of their selves. Of course the realities of life in places where the local people make their their ends meet by helping the hordes of tourists to coconst~~ict expected imageries are very different from those of the people who travel to Ladakh. Tourist experience is a personal, deeply motivated by individual needs, and culturally guided by the directed focus given to it by the social institutions who benelit from such persunal journeys of the seekers of their deeply private selves. Thc touring act is culturally canalized in a11

xiv A. GILLESPIE

of its stages-from the emergence of the personal plans, all through the actual journey, and in the aftermath of sharing the memories of the journey with oneself and with others. Human cultural history is filled with a variety of forms of such acts of movement of people across the distances of the seas and continents of the Earth, and beyond-as human beings are beginning to contemplate acts of tourism into the space. Human minds create scenarios for adventures (Simmel, 1919j1959) and set up cultural scripts for their accomplishment. The latter-as the present book amply demonstrates-guarantee that the adventures are always related to their opposite-those of stable, well-known, and socially accepted ways of being. In Ernst Boesch's words-the striving for the far and unknown (Fernweh) and its opposite-striving for the feeling of being at home (Heimweh) are two opposite sides of the same basic human ways of acting (Boesch, 1997). Moving to somewhere entails the moving away from somewhere else-hence the ambiguity of being-in-movement (Valsiner, 2007). Human beings have been on the move all through their evolution. Hunting and gathering for food is possible through moving around. Most recently, our contemporary phenomenon of tourism is antedated by the notion of pilgrimage. Phenomena of the "psychology of the tourists" that are depicted in this book in admirable richness can be found over a thousand years back in the ways in which Christian pilgrims travelled to Jerusd e m (Savage, 1977). As long as people travel, they travel for some meaningful purpose-and construct that purpose through meanings they attach to one or another aspect of the journey. The people may go far away-yet what they do in the process entails remaining very close to their regular ways of being themselves. The lures of what might be awaiting us behind that next street corner, or beyond the horizon toward which our caravan is moving are simultaneously thrilling and frightening. Despite a11 its rich empirical contents, this book is a theoretical journey. It is a milestone in transcending the dependence on famous thinkers of the past in the social sciences. Even if its author pledges allegiance to the legacy of George Herbert Mead-the seminal thinker whose mostly orally expressed ideas have been turned into guidebooks for social scientiststhe readers need not be led astray by that act of personal modesty. What we have here is an example of a new wave in cultural-psychological scholarship that is deeply competent in the theoretical heritages of the pastthose of George Herbert Mead, John Dewey, Lev Vygotsky, and many others. Yet there is the building new general theoretical perspectives in conjunction with careful selection of crucial phenomena. Phenomena of travel-tourism, pilgrimage, trading, exploring, commuting-are all parts of human life arrangements. They are equally important to the phenomena of staying-at home, at school, at work, in

Becoming Other xv

seclusion, and so forth. The social sciences have rarely considered looking at the people on the move. The usual obsel-vational focus of the social sc; entists is to study people in a limited range of bodily positions of stability-those who are interviewed or fill out questionnaires do so mostly while sitting-in contrast to kneeling-a position prescribed in some forms of prayer. Freudian analysis sets people up reclining on a couch in a psychoanalyst's ofice-rather than on their own bed at home, or in a motel or a park bench. At the same time, in their eveiyday reality, lir~niail beings are constantly on the move-doing something in some purposcftil manner that requii-es the movement of one's body t111-ougha sequence of positions-i-unning, walking, taking taxis, airplanes, and so on. All of this richness of cultural-psychological realities is rarely tapped into by social scientists. The author of this book is in this respect an explorer of still unknorvn lands of human psychology. The touring act is of course a complex meaningfi~lmovement. Its study calls for new ways of generalizing from the empirical data. The Ladakh case used in this book is an excellent example of that new phe~lon~enological focus. The careful, and at benevolently humorous presentation of the many ordinary life details that both the tourists and their hosts display in their encounters at Ladakh is a living tesritnony of the cultural processes that are constantly in the making. Different slices of reality-tourists' and their hosts' reflections upon one another, and on themselves, photographs taken of places, people, and of the photographing act itself-are all brought together in a search for a new theoretical focus in cultural psychology. As it becomes obvious, the notion of culture is a fabulous and vague meaning that organizes persons' conduct in their using of symbolic devices to cope with ruptures in their social act of being themselves. Being themselves entails coristarlt transce~ldingof that state of being-moving toward the unknown, luring, yet indefinitely treacherous-path of new experiences. It entails the seeking of comforting guidance fi-orn otlxel-s, utilization of symbolic resources, and constant movement between social positions. It is similar to the focus on symbolic resources in Tania Zittoun's E.n?~sitions(Zittoun, 2006) that inaugurated this present series orAdvances in. C?~lt?tral Psychology. This book is rich in description of phenomena-yet behind the empirical exposition is the theoretical synthesis of ideas based on the heritages of Mead, Dewey, and Vygotsky-as well as a rnethoclological innovation. The latter could be called gen.eologica1c~lltzi.ralp1~.eno?ltenology. It enta1'1s rebirth of appreciation of the phenomena-rather than mere reliance on standardized data "collection" routines-is the hallmark of conterriporaiy cultural psychology. Cultural psychology is a synthetic discipline-it selectiveIy borrows from philosophy, cultural and social anthi-opology, sociology, biology, and psychology-with the aim of integration of ideas and

xvi A.GILLESPIE

knowledge into schemes of generalized knowledge of how culture "operates" within the human psyche. Of course this can happen in a manner of speaking only-whatever we consider under the term "culture" has no agency (Wikan, 2002, p. 83). Agency is within their carriers-human beings in their living through acting. They are persons--or collective institutions-who act through the use of complex semiotic mediators (Gertz, Breaux, & Valsiner, 2007), social rcpl-esentations, dialogical processes within the self (Sim5o & Valsiner, 2007), and cultural models. Through their actions qualitatively new forms of human psychological phenomena emerge, together with ever-new ways of acting in relation to the turbulent worlds. What is that new theoretical perspective like? Alex Gillespie develops a framework for cultural psychology by taking the notion of the social act and situating it in the middle of the encounters in Ladakh. George Herbert Mead's notion of the act-as well as that of significant symbol-are developed further into a structurally elegant dynamic scheme in this book, bringing it close to our contemporary theorizing about dialogical self (Hermans, 2001, 2002). Both directions strive toward conceptualization of the dynamic and dialectical theoretical models (Ferreira, Salgado, & Cunha, 2006). Gillespie's solution is in the elaboration of the duality of the self. Duality-mutual relation of two (or more) parts of the functional system-is a concept that helps the thinkers to bypass the dangers of adoption of a stance of dualism. The Meadian significant symbol evokes an I-position of self who is in the process of acting, together with an Iposition of "the othern-real or imaginary. Both of these components of the self keep feeding into each other-and generating novelty through that relationship. The duality of SELF < > OTHER thus operates as a feed-forward loop of both parts acting (re-acting to what the other part did, andpro-acting to what the other might do next) upon the othel: The unity of the relation to the immediate past (re-acting) and the anticipation of the immediate hture (pro-acting) sets the stage for the emergence of self-reflection. Such seIf-reflection would not be possible if only one of the two componentsre-action or pro-action-were present. The self needs to be two-in order to become one-of two mutually ever-related parts. The unity is guaranteed by diversity. The new theoretical solution that the coverage in this book guides its readers is in the synthesis of the higher-order whole through meaningful contrasts at lower levels. The social sciences are about to return to the question of generalization-emergence of higher-order objects (Meinong, 1907) or Gestalts of higher order (Ehrenfels, 1988) as a result of abstraction created by the significant symbols. The notion of "higher psychological functionsm--central to the theoretical legacy of Lev

Becoming Other xvii

Vygotsky (Van der Veer & Valsinel; 1991)-is another term to focus on such dynamic hierarchy within the human mind. Significant symbols evoke two (or more) perspectives, creating the systemic unity out of otherwise isolated elements. Yet these symbols emerge from the meaning maker oneself-the self creates itself through multiplying itself into mutually related parts only in order to create new abstracted unity as it grtms out of such differentiating process as an abstracted and getieralized symbolic organizer of the process itself. As Gillespie states it succinctly"Evoking a significant symbol is thus evobz??g!he lohole social aclfi.o?nall of tliefiel-sl~ectives embedded within it" (in this volumc, p. 268). In sum-this book puts to rest any glorification of postmodernist belief in the local nature of knowledge and context specificity of human cultural acts as a part of the image of fragmented human lives. Human beings are differentiated and hierarchically integrated wholes rvho regulate their own organization by cultural means. This conceptual deathblow to postmodernist ideologies is done here without denying the reality of context specificity. In fact, all the evidence in this book shows that each and evety moment in the touring act is context bound, and hence unique. Yet there is gcllcrality operating upon-and creating-that uniqucncss. The author's careful development oC theoretical insights George Herbert Mead reached in his self-dialogues almost a century ago is a new step in the development oTcultura1 psychology as a W'lssens~hc~ji aiming at making sense of the human conditions in its generic ways. This itself is an exploring act-one that the social sciences need vely much at our present time of abundance of fragmented bits and pieces of information about "the others" that lead us to search for our own unified selves through invention of new ways for touring.

TRANSCRIPTION CONVENTIONS In the tra~lscripcioiiall riarnes have been changed. In the Ladakhi discussions, English words are in capitals (i.e., "CULTURE"). Rouncl brackets arc used for overlapping speech. Underlining is used to rnark emphasis in tone. Hyphens (-) are used to designate obvious changes ol'perspecti~le, or interruptions. Square brackets are used to deriote my editorial ~vork. Sometimes I have added text in order to make the excerpt more comprehe~sible,while at other times I have edited out portions of the excerpt in order to focus on the phenomenon of interest. Wherever text has been removed it is marked by [...I. Square brackets are also used for observations on the interaction (i.e., [laugh], or [pause]).

CHAPTER 1

THE SOCIAL ACT

Today George Herbert Mead's oe7rzrl.e seems multiclisciplinaiy. His writings move freely from psycllology to sociology aiid fium pf-iilosopl~yto linguistics. But thcsc disciplinaiy boundaries were only properly irlstitutionalized after his writings. When he wrote, he was fi-ee to follo~v his ideas wherever they led. Disciplinary institutionalization has created a problem for Mead's legacy. His oeuwe has been tugged in different directions, with different disciplines each hoIding one piece of what has thus become a puzzle. The philosophers see his epistemology the linguists see his tlleo~yof language, the sociologists see his theory of mici-osociological Intel-action, and the psychologists sce the problem of pcrspcctivc-taking. Rut hotv do all these parts fit together? In orcler to understand Mead's tlleory as a whole, it is usefi~lto begin with the qucstion to which it answers. One of the people best able to givc verbal form to the question that motivated Mcad is John Dewey-one of Mead's closest intellectual colleagues. At Mead's fitneral, Dewey tried to sum up Mead's intellectl~alquest in the follo~vingway: More than any one I have known he maintained a continuity of ideas lvith constant development. In my earliest days of contact with hi~n,as he returned from his studies in Berlin forty years ago, his mind was full of the PI-obleni which has always occupied him, the problem of illdkidual ~nincl and consciousness. (Dewey, 1931, p. 3 1 1 ) A~coitrii?gOther Aaitr Socid I??tei.action to Self-Ii~lection,1-25 Copyright 0 2006 by 1nfol.mation Age Publishi~~g A1 rights of repl-oductionin any form resewed.

Becoming Other 3 Mead's question concerns the nature and origin of consciousness. The term consciousness, however, seems to reifj Mead's problematic. Mead is not interested in consciousness as an entity, but in comciomess as the process of self-refiction. For Mead, self-reflection is the defining feature of humanity. Self-reflection brings about self-mediation and thus human agency. Self-reflection is the key to our rich internal mental lives, and he argues, the key to our social organization. Given this problematic, what is Mead's theory? Mead understands selfreflection in terms of becoming other to onesey In self-reflection one stands apart from, or outside of, oneself. The question then becomes: How does self step outside of self and become other to selQ Crucially, Mead realizes that self is already an "other" within the social situation. self is other from the perspective of the other. It follows that if self could take the perspective of the other, then self would become other to self, and thus selfreflect. This is his theory in very general terms. The real ingenuity of Mead's theory is not in the above, general formulation, which seems to raise a further problem, namely, how do people take the perspective of an other? Although perspective-taking is a self-evident fact of everyday life, explaining it has proved problematic. Mead's genius is in his explanation of perspective-taking in terms of his theo~yof the social act. No wonder Dewey commented that: All who have intellectual association with Mr. Mead, directly or indirectly, also know how central was his conception of the "complete act." (Dewey, 1931, p. 313)

The "complete act" is another term for the "social act." Mead himself did not stabilize his terminology, and this may account for the puzzling neglect of chis "central" concept in Meadian scholarship (but see Blumer & Morrione, 2004; Fan; 1996). While Dewey is correct in pointing to the social act, or "complete act," as Mead's central theoretical concept, he was mistaken in thinking that all who have come into contact with Mead's ideas have recognized this. Despite Mead's (e.g., 1934, pp. 7-8) own emphasis on the centrality of the social act, the concept has been all but forgotten. The social act, however, is the theoretical concept that brings together all the parts of Mead's oeuvre. The social act is a theory of epistemology, or knowledge construction; it is a theory about the formation and function of language; it is a theory of social interaction; and it is a theory of perspective-taking. And all these elements come together to explain self-reflection, or consciousness. The present monograph is an attempt to systematically utilize Mead's theory of the social act in empirical research. The research context is tourist-Ladakhi encounters in northern India. We will study these encounters

in terms of the social act, operationalized as the touring act. Within the touring act we will examine perspective-taking and the emergence of new domains of self-reflection; we will examine the construction of new meanings and social interaction. Thus we will use empirical research on the touring act to reassemble the various parts of Mead's theoiy. Before embarking upon this empirical analysis, botvevel; it is necessaly to first outline in detail Mead's thco~yof the social act. The easiest way to approach the social act is historically. Accordingly, the present chapter presents the historical emergence of the theory. Tliis historical account is contextual. Rather than siniply presenting Mead's theory in-itself, I situate the theory both as a reaction against Descartes and as a development of pragmatist philosophy.

DESCARTES' ESSENTIALISM

We begin with Descartes, because thc work of tlie early pragmatists (Peirce, Dewey, James, & Mead) can only be undel-stood as a reaction against Descartes' essentialism. The pragmatists resisted the Cartesian idea that things are ontologically given, and timeless. For Descartes, things exist in themselves, and action on those things is secondary. But the pragmatists put action first, arguing that things clo not exist in themselves, and instead that things are const~x~cted in human activity. Let us first look at Descartes' theory of action. Descartes' theoiy of action is dualistic. While he did not initiate the idea of a dualism between mind and mattel; he did fi~rtherthe institutionalization of this idea (Becker & Morris, 1996; Gillespie, in press a). Descartes developed his dualism, during a series of meditations, when lie established, to his own satisfaction, that there exists both a thinking mind and a material world: yes cogilans, which refers to the mind, the soul, and the rational faculties, which are not extended in space, and res extensa which refers to all that is extended in space. This ontvlogical division ol' the world led Descartes (166411985a) to differentiate reflex action fi-orn dualistic action. Reflex action occurs entirely in the realm of res extensa. Descartes illustrates this with an image of a child by a fire, presented in Figure 1.1. If the child's foot comes too close to the fire, he speculates, particles stimulate nei-ve fibres which "pull" so as to open a partiailal. duct in the brain, which in turn causes a muscular contraction-'ljust as when you pull one end of a string, you cause a bell hanging at the other eud to ring at the same time" (1664/1985b, p. 101). A cavity, at the center of tlie brain, is a repository of the "animal spit-its," tlie finest products of the blood, which flow into the opened duct, through the ncn7c,to change the shape of the

4 A. GILLESPIE

Figure 1.1. The child, the fire, and the Cartesian reflex.

muscles, resulting in a mechanistic reflex action that does not involve the soul, or the cogito. The key point with the reflex is that it is entirely mechanical, and involves only res extensa, that is, the material world. Descartes theory of self-reflective action, or dualistic action, involves the intervention of res cogitans. Taking visual perception as an example, Descartes argues that the external object causes a "figure" to be "traced" on the sensory organs, which pull on a certain configuration of fibers, which in turn cause an image to be "traced" onto the pineal gland (16641 198513, p. 105). The pineal gland, for Descartes, is the material window into res cogitam, and thus such stimulation of the pineal gland, he argued, would cause conscious perception. Once the child consciously perccives the fire, the child's mind, by virtue of its rational faculty, may intervene in

Becoming Other 5

the reflex action and inhibit or enenrate certain muscular responses. However, the power of res cogitnns is limited relative to the body (which is part of yes extensa), and Descartes notes that the mind is often unable to mediate emotional or reflex responses. Ebr example, it would be difficult for the child's mind to override the embodied reflex to withdraw his foot from the fire. There is much to commend in Descartes' theory of action because it is a genuillely interactional model. The mind, the body (with emotions and reflexes), and the world are all conceptualized, and the interactions between these components are dynamic. But the interactions are not constitutive (MarkovA, 1982). The mind, the body, and the world all preexist any action. Descartes inaugurated the use of the term consciousness (Davies, 1990), but he never explained the developmellt of consciousness, or self-reflection. The mind is pregiven, and consciousness arises by virtue of images being traced on the pineal gland. Mind is ontologically given, and conscious perception is "explained" by precepts going into the mind, via the pineal gland. Thus the thco~yassumes as ontologically given what actually .yieecls explanation-namely, how the i~ldiviclualmind or consciousness comes about. Descartcs conception of li.ut11 is also essentialist. In his search for Truth, Descartes questions whether perception can lead to 'fiuth, but concludes that reliance upon perception opcns the door to illusion. Instead, he argues, for a rationalistic theoly of Truth: Ideas are True if they are clear and distinct. According to this criterion, geometly yields many Truths. Pythagoras' Theorem, for example, is such a clear and distinct idea that it must be True. From a rational point of view, the Theorem would remain Tl~ie,even if everything else ceasecl to exist. Equally, Descartes argued, the existence of self-reflcction is indubitable-clear and distinct, and thus TIII~.This latter Truth is established with his copto ergo sum argument. All these Truths are ti~neless,akin to Plato's ideal forms. Notice that Descartes is not explaining the existence of self-reflection, or consciousness, hc is simply taking it as an eternal Truth. Charles Sanders Peirce (187811995) initiated the pragmatist critique of Descartes, with a paper titled, "How to make our ideas clear." Peirce questions, what is a clear idea? His arg!ment is that clear and distinct ideas are not established by rational thought-by res coptnvs. Rathel; he argues, an idea becomes clear and distinct to the extent that one can follow the clear and distinct consequences of that idea. If ideas do not have different consequences, Peirce maintains, then, they are not different ideas. Thus it is action, and not thought, that makes ideas clear and distinct. Peirce derives this idea from the study of science: Within scientific practice icleas become valid to the extent that they have clear and distinct colisequences within experiments. Pcircc's idea is far reaching, because it shifts our

6 A. GILLESPIE focus away from timeless Truth, toward Iittle truths that lie in the futurein the expected consequences of an action. As the pragmatist doctrine matured, through the writings of Dewey, James, and Mead, the consequences of ideas increasingly came to mean their consequences for action, such that truth became an outcome of carve out everything, just as we carve out action. As James wrote: constellations, to serve our human purposes" (190711995, p. 98). Everything, all objects and truths, James argues are "carved" by human action. Objects become objects as they come to serve human ends. Forks become implements for eating, in the act of eating. Pythagoras' Theorem becomes a truth every time it is used to build two walls at right angles to each other. The pragmatists thus reversed Descartes scheme. Where Descartes had put the clear and distinct idea of a mindlworld dualism first, and then treated action as an outcome of this dualism, the pragmatists began to put action first, and conceive of everything else as an outcome. The pragmatist critique of essentialism leads us away from ontology (timeless distinctions such as that between mind and matter) and toward epistemology (tlie study of how knowledge, such as the distinction between mind and matter, is constructed). In today's nomenclature we could call the early pragmatists const~uctionists.However, their brand of constructionism was more materialistic and naturalistic than our contemporary brand of discursive constructionism (but see Berger & Luckmann, 1966, for social-materialist constructionism). In order to understand the particulars of the pragmatists' form of construction it is necessary to consider the impact of Charles Darwin on their thought.

DARWIN: NATURALISTIC CONSTRUCTIONISM

Darwin is not usually considered a contributor to philosophy. But for philosophers such as Nietzsche, Bergson, Dewey, Mead, and more recently Rorty, he is of decisive importance. Darwin is read by these authors as providing a naturalistic basis for rejecting Cartesian essentialism. According to Dewey (1910, p. 2), Darwin's the theory of evolution by natural selection inaugurated a fundamental philosophical revolution which was unfortunately obscured by "theoIogica1 clamor." Darwin, Dewey (1910, p. 1-2) writes, had laid his "hands upon the sacred arc of absolute permanency" and treated forms, previously considered eternal and essential, "as originating and passing away." Dewey is not talking about the religious debate that Darwin's work instigated, he is talking about Darwin's critique of timeless essentialism. Darwin showed that species, previously taken to be given by God, evolved and changed. If

Becoming Other 7

homo sa$iens evolved, might it not be that the human mind, or consciousness, also evolved? Dewey and Mead use Dalwin to reverse the Cartesian and Platonic hierarchy in which the world comes before action. In the Cartesian paradigm, things can be defined independently of organisms, but in Darwin's theory of evolution, the selective environment of the organism is in part a function of the organism's capacity for perception and action. [There] arises a new type of animal or plant [...I but with this arises a new world, fbr the animal or plant determines its ruorld, its environment, in terms of its life-process. If an animal has eyes, it has an envi~-onmentthat has colour; if it has ears, it lives in a world of sounds; if it has taste, its environment is sapid; if nostrils, its world is odorous. Change the animal and you change the environment, the worlcl in which the animal lives. (Mead, 1936, p. 140)

The envil-onment is not just constit~rredby thc perceptual mechanisms or the organism. If the organism has the stomach of a cow, then grass is food, or if it has the digestive tract found in ~voodworm,then xvood is food. We can go frrrthcr. If the organism has Iocoinotion, then it will live in a spatial world, while if it cannot move, then it will not construct space. Each organism, with its distinct modes ofperccption and action, inhabits a different environment, or Un&iilelt(Uexkiill, 1934J1992). Impulses can also construct an organism's environment: An environment thus arises for an organism through the selective power of an attention that is determined by its impulses that are seeking expression. This peculiar environment does not exist in the consciousness of the form as a separate milieu, but the consciousness of the organism consists in the fact that its future conduct outlines and defincs its objects. In so far as the organization of one individual diffcrs frotn that of others, it will have a private environment, though these differences may be called tllosc of standpoint. They are objective differcnccs. l'hey exist in naturc. (Mead, 1925, p. 256)

Mead is arguing that the environment is constructed, in part, by tlie impulses of the organism, because they pick out stimuli in the environment. For example, if the organism is hungl-lr, then food stimuli will become salient. It follows that each organism, with its own configuration of impulses, responses, and perceptual experiences, lives in its 014711 environment. But, Mead insists, this "peculiar environment" does not exist only in the consciousness of the 01-ganisn1.This "peculiar envil-onment" is real in its consequences. The cows hungcr is an impulse that constitutes grass as food, and without finding food, the cow will clie. The radical conclusion to draw from this is that because every organism has a unique configuration of impulses, perceptions, and action potcntials, so all

Becoming Other 9

organisms have a "private environment." These divergent perspectives, Mead insists, are objective-"they exist in nature." Illre are dealing here with naturalistic, not discursive, constructionism, and it leads us to a profound perspectivism (Mead, 1926a). Not only each species, but each organism, constructs the world in a unique way, and inhabits a "private environment."

PERSPECTIVISM AND THE PSYCHOLOGIST'S FALLACY

When Dewey and Mead began to apply Darwin's ideas to the study of humans, they were also forced to consider the role of ideas, or discourses, in constructing the environment. According to pragmatism, ideas enable action, and ideas are designated true when the action enabled has the expected outcome. Ideas change the salience of certain objects within the perceptual field, carving out distinct paths of action. If the above argument that an organism's capacity for perception and action constructs the organism's environment is valid, then it also follows that humans' ideas about their environment, which mediate their perception of that environment and open their environment up to action, must also constluct that environment. For example, two humans in a maze may be ostensibly in the same environment. However, if one knows the way out of the maze and the other does not, then they are in quite different environments: one is free and the other is trapped. Later if the human who has been trapped in the maze cognitively recognizes a pattern, and conceives of a path of action that will lead out of the maze, then this so-called subjective idea changes the objective reality of the maze for this person. This line of thought is summed up by Mead in the following way: The field of mind, then, is the larger environment which the activity of the organism calls for but which transcends the present [. .] the field of mind is the temporal extension of the environment of the organism. (Mead, 1932, p- 25)

.

What we term mind is in fact part of the individual's environment. The individual's activity is directed at objects which transcend the present, which are not in the immediate environment-these objects, we say, are in the mind of the individual. These objects can be in the past, or in the future, but in either case they are not in the immediate environment. This temporally extended environment is sustained in ideas and in images. lidking this idea to its logical conclusion, Dewey and Mead argue that thinking changes the environment for the organism-a conclusion that is

entirely absurd within the Cartesian paradigm because the mind and the environment are considered ontologically distinct. Perspectivism, even the idea that thinking challges the environment, does not imply relativism. The world does not appear arbitra~yfrom any pcrspective, and, moreovel; some perspectives on the world lead to aclaptive paths of action, while others do not. Perspectives are constrained by the actions and interactions that are possible within a social and natural context. The idea of truth is not abandoned, it is simply lied to action consequences, or deferred to the fi~ture.Given an impulsc, a desire for some consequence, all ideas are not equal-some will produce the desired outcome, while others will not. The criterion of truth is not in the rational clarity of an idea, but in the consequences of an idea for a given impulse. If all humans, by virtue of having different ideas and different impulses, live in different environments, one rvoulcl expect social psychology to take cognizance of this fact. If one is attempting to explain a given action, it follows from perspectivism that the 1-esearchshould enquire into the-envil.onment-for-the-actor The researcher should try to enter this environment, noting the salient objects ancl distinctions witliin that cnvironrnetit, or perspective, ancl identify which aspects oC the actor's "pcculiar environment" caused the given action. Horvevel; as Janles (1884, 1890) points out psychologists (generally not being perspectioists) are prone to confusing their own perspective with the perspectives of others. This error James (1884) termed the psychologists' fallacy, and it originated in his study of introspection. James describes the fallacy in the following way: The f~sychologist'sfollocy is the osslrnlf~fionthnt the ?~tenrn? state s f d i e d ~nirstb~ rollsciozts of itselfos the ~,sychologisti$ consciolu of it. Vie mental state is a ~ ~ aof rc itself only from within; it grasps what we call its own content, and nothing more. The psychologist, on ~ h contraly, c is aware of it from without, ancl kno~vsits relations with a11 sorts of other things. IVhat the thought sees is only its own object; 1z7hat the psychologist sees is the thought's ol~jecr,plus the thought itself, plus possibly all the rest of the rvorld. (Jamcs, 1890, pp. 196-197)

The psychologist's fallacy directs our attention to the unique contents of the perspective being studied-as does Dewey's (1886) paper on the psychological standpoint. If we all inhabit a unique environment, and we act on tilt basis of this environment, it is necessaly for psychologists to explore this environment, and not to confuse this with the em~iso~~mcnt of the researcher. While a researcher may try to explain a n individual's voting beliavio~;for example, in terms of psychological insecurity, it is highly unlikely that this idea has any place in the perspective of the person voting. The person voting will give reasons for votirig in terms or the eco-

10 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other

nomic situation, rising unemployment, or whatever. This is the perspective of the voter, and James' point is that it is quite a different perspective from that of the researcher. It follows, from the early pragmatists' insistence on perspectivism, that in order to explain human behavior we need to -pay. particular attention to what is in whose mind and when. In order to aid psychologists in the task of differentiating their own thoughts from those of others, James (1884, p. 24) introduces the term "topic"-which the subsequent analyses will make much use of. James uses the term "topic" to refer to the general content of the perspective being analyzed. We could say that the concept "topic" is the topic of the last sentence. One uses the concept "topic" in order to summarize what is in the mind of the speaker, and distinguish it from the mind of the researcher. As we will see, photography, the preservation of culture, and tourism are all topics for tourists. Mead's concept of the social act, on the other hand, is never a topic for tourists or Ladakhis, though it is the topic of the present chapter-even though, so far, little has been said about it directly.

Dewey is abandoning the idea that sensations and responses exist in themselves. His point is that we must start with the action: lookklg and reachi?t.g.There is no passive one-sided "pull" mechanics of a Cartesian reflex. There is an ongoing goal-directed action, in which the response constlucts the stimulus,just as the stimulus constructs the response: The reaching, in turn, must both stimulate and control seeing. The eye must be kept upon the candle if the arm is to do its work; let it wander and the arm takes up anotl~ertask. In other wolds, Tirenow have an enlarged and transformed coordination; the act is seeing no less than before, but it is now seeing-for-reaching purposes. (1896, p. 359)

The act is a goal-directed temporal rvhole, and within this larger temporal movement, stimuli and responses become differentiated. The point is that no stimulus or response exists in itself, "in reality they are always insicle a coordination and have their significance purely from the part played" (1896, p. 360). Just like the act of chewing the cud constitutes grass as food, so the act reaching constitutes the flame as something potentially interesting. Moreovcl; cvcn separating the terms stirnulrts and response is problematic. In most acts, Dewey (1896, pp. 366-367) claims, there is 110 clistinction between stimulus and response, between the olject and the action. Although these distinctions may be in the mind of the psycl~ologist analyzing the act, to attribute the consciousness of the psycl~ologistto the actor would be to commit the psycllologist's fallacy. From the actor's standpoint, the action, the goal, the actor and the object remain tmdifferentiated or fused within reflexive or habitual action. So far we have seen how Dewey reconceptualizes Descartes' conception of the reflex, but what about res cogituns mediating the reflex? What about the self-reflective mind? Dewey also provides a theo~yof how mind mecliates action. Instead of presupposing mind as an ontological entity, Dewey theorizes how mind might arise throug11 a conflict of responses within the act.

DEWEY THE ACT

Dewey's (1896) concept of "the act" is the bridge that leads us from Descartes' conception of action to Mead's concept of the social act. The concept of the act describes the individual's relation to the world, or perspective on the world. The question that Dewey addresses with this theory is, like Mead, the question of how self-reflective thought, or consciousness, arises. Dewey (1896, p. 358) introduces his theory of the act by returning to the "familiar" motif of the child and the flame. In the years since Descartes, the child, through the writings of Peirce (186811998, p. 76) and James (1890, p. 25) seems to have become progressively younger. In Dewey's example, the child, like a baby, is naively reaching toward the flame. From a Cartesian point of view, the bright light is a stimulus for the child to reach out, and the resulting burn is a stimulus to retract the hand. This is what Descartes described as a simple, two part, reflex. However, Dewey rejects this interpretation, and instead emphasizes that the act cannot be broken down into two parts. Instead it must be considered as a whole: In other words, the real beginning is with the act of seeing; it is looking, and not a sensation [i.e., stimulus] of light. The sensory quale gives the value of the act, just as the movement filrnishes its mechanism and control, but both sensation [i.e., stimulus] and movement [i.e., response] lie inside, not outside the act. (1896, pp. 358-359)

11

I

But now take a child who, upon reaching for bright light (that is, exercising the seeing-reaching coordination) has sometimes had a delightf~llexercise, sometimes found something good to eat and sometimes burned himself. Noru the resl~onseis not only ~azcertnin,h i t the sti?nlrlzrs is eqtmlty zrncertoin; one is t~?rcertninonly so far as the other is. The real problem map be equally well stated as either to discover the rig111 sti~~luius, to constitute the stimulus, or to rliscover, to constitute, the response. The question of ~\.hetherto reach or to abstain from I-eacllingis the question what sort of a bright light llavc wc here? Is it the one which means playing with one's l~ancls[..I or burning one's fingers? (1896, pp. 367-368)

12 A, GILLESPIE

Becoming Other 13

Within this act there are two responses and thus two objects. The child on the one hand wants to reach toward the plaything, and on the other hand, to draw away from the flame. Such contradictory responses, Dewey argues, are the basis of consciousness. Contradictory responses create a rupture within the act and stall the act. Dewey abandons Descartes' static conception of mind, and redefines mind as a process of reconstruction. Mind for Dewey, is oriented toward reconstructing the object and associated response so that the act may continue. The plaything/flame becomes subjective, remains so until reconstructed by mind, and only returns to objectivity once it is suficiently reconstructed for the act to proceed. It is in this phase of the act that stimulus and response, perception and action, become distinct in consciousness: It is the temporary disintegration and need of reconstitution which occasions, which affords the genesis of the conscious distinction into sensory stimulus on one side and motor rcsponse on the other. (1896, p. 370)

A FEEDBACK THEORY?

+

The basic movement, then, can be schematized as: actionjrupture self-rejective thinking-+resolution. This can be called a rupture theory of mind or self-reflection. The motivation of the mental phase, or the thinking phase, is to reconstruct the object of the rupture so that action can continue. Dewey's contribution is to try to explain the subjective as a phase within the larger act, and thus as inextricably dependent upon the goal orientation of the actor. Mind, for Dewey, does not exist in-itself, like res cogitans, instead it is the dissolution and reconstruction of the ruptured object from the standpoint of the actor. The mind, then, and the distinction between subject and object is not something that preexists the act in an ontological sense. Rather, they are created by contradictoly responses within the act. Mind is the working out of this contradiction, and is necessary for the act to proceed: for the impulse to find its object, and act to be consummated. Just as Danvin will not let us ask whether the chicken or the egg came first, but will point toward the trans-generational act of reproduction, so Dewey is leading us away from an ontological distinction behveen the flame and the child's conscious perception, toward a holistic conception of the act within which mind and object arise. Instead of a spatial metaphor which asks us to think of object and mental image, chicken and egg, side-by-side, we move toward a temporal metaphor, where object and image are, like chicken and egg, merely different phases of the same process, or act. From the standpoint of the actor, the rupturc makes that which was previously objective subjective, and the phase of reconstnlctiol~(mind) is the attempt to restore objectivity to the object, so that action can proceed.

Situating consciousness as a phase within the temporal act marks a fundamental break with the Cartesian paradigm. To use Holton's (1975) terminology, Descartes and Dewey subscribe to different themata. Descartes conceives of the object and the mental image as existing sicle-by-side in parallel universes, and thus utilizes a spatial metaphor. Dewey, on the other hand, uses a temporal metaphor and conceives of the response, the stimulus and the mental reconstruction as sequential phases of the same temporal whole, the act. For Descartes, that which is yes exto71sa cannot become res cogitans nor vice vena. But for Dewey, during the course of action, the stimulus may first be objective, then subjective (through conflicting responses) and then reconstructed (in consciousness) into objectivity again. The plaything becomes subjective after the child is burned, and in the withdrawal, the idea of tlie flame becomes objective.

Mead was initially v c ~ yenthusiastic about Dcrvey's thcory. He rapidly and took it up, and foc~~sing on the reconstn~ctivephase, thought it pmvided the theory of mind and consciousiiess that he sought. Using tlie tlieory to further his own interest in consciousness, or self-reflection, Mead (1 903) integrated the theoly of the act with James' rich description of the stream of thought, or consciousness. Paraphrasing James, Mead shows horv James' introspective account of thought fits vely nicely into the idea of reconst~luctionwithin a ruptured act: The kaleidoscopic flash of suggestion, and intmsion of the inapt, the unceasing flow of odds and ends of possible objects that will not fit, together with the continuous collision with the hard, unshakable objective condiliolis of the problem, the transitive feelings of effort and anticipation when Itre feel that we are on the right track and sul~stanti\~e points of rest, as the idea becomes definite, the welcoming and rejecting, especially the identification of the meaning of the whole idea with the different steps in its coming to consciousness - there are none of these that are not almost oppressively present on the surface of consciousness duringjust the periods which Dewey describes as those of disintegration and reconstitution of the stimulus-the object. (1903, pp. 101-102)

Here we have a detailed phenomenoIogica1 description of coasciousness as an attempt to reconstmct a ruptul-ed act. Conflicting responses are juxtaposed. Aspects of the world shimmer between objectivity and subjcctivity. The mind scrambles to reconstruct the environment into such a configuration as can lead to the goal of the act.

14 A. GILLESPIE

Despite providing a rich, and phenomenologically plausible, account of consciousness, Mead came to realize that Dewey's theory of the act was inadequate. Two main problems with the theory of the act emerged. The first was noted by James. James (1904) reviewed the work of Dewey and his colleagues (1903), and heralded the emergence of "the Chicago school." James recognizes the importance of the act, but he points out that it provides "no account of the fact [...I that different subjects share a common object-world" (p. 4). If all subjects construct their individual knowledge through ruptured action, then how is it that humans share knowledge? The Deweyan act, despite its sophisticated temporality, is hndamentally individualistic. It refers only to the organism-environment relation. How can it account for the fact that humans share language and a social environment? If there were only the Deweyan act, then surely all humans would be isolated in their own action-environments? Dewey and his colleagues may have succeeded in casting aside "the sacred arc of absolute permanency," but they clearly created a new problem. The theory of the act carries perspectivism forward, but it does not provide an account of perspective-taking. The second problem with Dewey's conception of the act is that it fails to provide a suacient foundation for mind, or consciousness. What constitutes a contradiction? Is not each previous response to the candle unique, thus constituting at least a minimal contradiction to the present response? How big a divergence of response makes a contradiction? What are the borders of an act? Is it the reaching for the candle, or the subact of turning the head? The answers to all these questions are fuzzy, and so mind is left without a solid foundation. Moreover, why should a contradiction on any scale produce mind? Mead (1910a) states the problem clearly. Returning, yet again, to the child and the flame, he writes:

Becoming Other 1 5

itself or the second dog. Indeed, humans seem only poorly aware of the contradictions in which they are embedded. Marx, for example, would be disappointed with the proletariat's current lack of awareness of the contradictions of capitalism. Contradictory responses are insufficient to prise the actor out of ongoing action, and thus unable to provide a non-Cartesian conception of mind. 'I'hese problems with the act caused a rupture for Mead. The tlieoly of the act was insufficient for Mead's goal of explaining l ~ ~ i r n aconsciousn ness. Thus Mead's own path of action toward an unclerstancling of conscio~lsnesswas ruptured, and lie began to reconstruct Dewey's tlleoly of the act into his own theory of the social act. In a series of papers we can observe the kaleicloscopic flash of suggestion at work as Mead (19101 2001, 1910a, 1910b, 1912, 1913) struggles to reconstruct the Deweyan act (Gillespie, 2004). In these papers, several alternative theories shimmer between objectivity and subjectivity. For example, Mead (1910a, p. 400) discusses and dismisses James' (1890, p. 25) idea tliat mind arises through thc repeated perception of the same object. He also explored the idea, which he later abandoned, tliat mind arises in the space of manipulation opened up between the subject ancl the object by the action of tlie hands (1 9 1012001, pp. 52-56). Both of' these iaader~i~ate formulations are, like the act, still in one inlportant sense, Cartesian, for they both take the subject-object interaction as prinlaly. Mead's first major breakthroug.11was to turn his attention away fi-om the subject-object relation and toward the subject-subject interaction. Based on this paradigmatic shift of emphasis, Mead put folward what I term a feedback theory, or a mirror tl~eo~y, of consciousness. According to this theory, it is the feedback an actor receives from others that cletermines the meaning of his or her action, and thus, that produces self-consciousness:

There is the teaping flame which means to the child a plaything, there is heat which means a burn. In this case the results of the past responses are related to characters in tlie content of stimulation - movement means plaything, heat means burn. Still the meaning of plaything is playing and the meaning of burn is drawing back the hand. The association of these contents with the dancing flame does not enable the child to present to himself the playing or hurried withdrawal. It simply gives other contents, other stimulation values to his immediate experience. The association of one content with another content is not the symbolism of meaning. (p. 400)

?Ve arc conscious of our attitudes because they are I-esponsible for thc changes in the conduct of other individuals. A man's reaction toward weather conditions has no influence upon the weather itself. It is of importance for the success of his conduct that he should be conscious not of his own attitudes, of his own habits of response, but of the signs of rain or fair ~ueather.Successful social conduct brings one illto a field xvithin which a consciousness of one's own attitudes helps torvard the control of the conduct of others. (1910a, p. 403)

Conflicting responses to play and to withdrawal, Mead argues, will only lead to an oscillation between responses, not to consciousness that one is responding. In nonhuman animals there are conflicting responses, yet there is no consciousness. A dog may oscillate between being friendly and aggressive to a second dog, but it does not become coliscious of either

Because the actions of self are of consequence for the actions of others (which in turn, are of consequence for sell) there is both an incentive and a potential mechanism whereby self can become conscious of his or her actions. Returning to the motif of the child and flame, tlie feedback theo ~ adds y the mother to the scene, Thus we move from a dyadic model to a

Becoming Other 17

16 A. GILLESPIE

triadic model. The attitude of the mother within this triad provides feedback to the child who is engaged in a Detveyan act with the object. Within this theoretical scheme, the meaning of an act is the response of the mother. Although the feedback theory of consciousness is sometimes attributed to Mead, Mead himself came to reject the theory. Three problems are evident. Firstly, why should the animate world provide any more feedback than the inanimate world? Food eaten disappears, and there is no reason to see why this should bring about consciousness. Secondly, non-human animals, right down to social insects, live amidst others, receiving feedback from others, and yet they do not appear to have minds. Finally, there is nothing in feedback per se that would seem to lead to consciousness or mind. For example, a dog can be taught to point at food, through reward and punishment feedback, but the dog is not aware of the meaning of pointing. The core problem is that the feedback theory does not adequately deal with a subject-subject relation. The other is a pseudo-other, who may as well be an object or a mechanical device. The feedback theoly is the subject-object paradigm in disguise, for the perspective is still focused on the actor and the other is not endowed with any independent perspective. The theory is perspectival, but essentially it only theoiizes one perspective. If one is to take the subject-subject interaction seriously, then the theory needs to become multi-perspectival, it needs to theorize the interaction between perspectives. And this is precisely what Mead's theory of the social act does.

MEAD: THE SOCIAL ACT

There are two related insights that lead to Mead's theory of the emergence of consciousness. First, Mead defines consciousness as becoming other to oneself. Consciousness, for Mead, is essentially self-reflection, and it makes possible self-mediation, that is self-monitoring and self-control. It is by becoming other to oneself that self is able to mediate self's own reflexes. Second, Mead realized that self is already other from the perspective of other within social interaction, and thus if self could take the perspective of other (toward self) then we would have an explanation of self-reflection and self-mediation. We are back at the problem of perspective-taking, a problem that seems inherent in perspectivism. There is no nerve fiber connecting the brain of one human to the next, so how can one person participate in the experiences of the next? It is important to realize the extent of this problem, for it is both central to understanding Mead's insight and his conse-

I! I

quent tlleoiy. The problem is the divergence of perspectives within any social interaction. A fundamental divergence of perspectives is the starting point for James, Dewey, and Mead. It is easy for us to overlook this divergence for we automatically conceive of a situation from the perspectives of diverse participants simultaneously Returning to the example of the noth her, child and flame will illustrate the divergence. The situation for the child is that of reachiilg for a play-thing or a burn-thing. The situation for the mother is attentiveness to her child, of both pl-otecting the child and fulfilling the child's desires. Despite the actions of both mother and child constituting, in part, the sit~lationfor the othel; each is clearly embedded in a different situation. The problem is: how can the child transcend her own perceptual field and begin to experience the situation of the mother within which she (the child) is the other? In order to address this question we need to distinguish perspectives from social positions (Gillespie, 2006a). Perspectives, as described so far, refer to the relation between an actor and the environment. This relation is calved, primarily, by action. Action is the meeting point between the embodied desires of the actor and thc constraints of the environment. The environment, from the perspective o f the actor, contains paths of action leading to the satisfaction oI'various desires. The pl-oblcm of perspective-taking, then, is the pi-oblern of how people become aware of the action orientations of others. Social positions, on the other hand, are fi~nctionalpositions within institutionalized patterns of interaction (social acts). They are not simply ways of acting, or roles, rather they are social-stl-uctural positions of constraint and affordance. Examples of social positions ~vitllineveryday social winning/losing, giving1 acts include: speakitlgllistening, b~~yinglselling, receiving, I-equesti~~g/hclping, artackingldcfendi~~g,leadinglfollo~vil~g, questioning/answering, lending/borrowing, and corntnanding/obeying. Social positions also exist in play: children enjoy enacting the social positions of buying and selling, of fceding and being fed, of giving and receiving, of chasing and escaping, of teachitlg and learning, and so on. Evely social act rriust contain two or more social positions, and thcsc social positions must be interrelated such that the e~lvironmentof each social position is in part constituted by the actions of those in the complementa~y social position. In order to use this distinction bettveen perspectives and social positions to understand perspective-taking, two assumptio~lsmust be made. First, each social position, given its social and sti-uctural configuration of arordances and constraints, sustains a perspective. Tllc social position patterns the occupant's expcricnce. Being, for example, in the social position OF receiving can sustain cxperie~lcesof joy, iridebtcdness and even resentfulness. The complementary social position of giving, on thc other

18 A. GILLESPIE

hand, can sustain experiences of loss, vicarious joy, and superiority, among others. Second, people frequently exchange social positions within social acts. Sometimes people give and sometimes they receive; sometimes people command and at other times they obey; sometimes people buy and sometimes they sell, and so on. So, given these two assumptions, how does perspective-taking develop? Taking the perspective of the other needs to be theorized as a development of taking the social position of the other within a given social act. When the child takes the social position of the other, within a social act, the child cultivates the perspective of the other because each social position sustains a distinct perspective. Ontogenetically the precursor of perspectivetaking is simply taking up and enacting the social position of the other. Through taking the social position of many others, in play and actuality, the child cultivates the diverse perspectives that are sustained by social and institutional structures. The child becomes, in an embodied sense, a buyer and a seller, a caregiver and a cared for, a teacher and a learner, a doctor and a patient, and so on. Thus the Cartesian gulf is bridged: all children within the same society and moving between the same social positions will cultivate a similar stock of perspectives. Let us call this cnlcia1 dynamic, position exchange. This is not Mead's term, but mine. However, a secondary problem remains. For self-reflection two or more perspectives existing within a social act must be evoked simultaneously within the same person. Thus the child must integrate the correct complementary perspectives so that when in one social position, she is aware of the perspective of the other (without being in the social position of the other). How does this integration of complementary perspectives occur? There are two mechanisms. First, position exchange, aside from cultivating differentiated perspectives, also contributes to the integration of perspectives. Repeated and rapid position exchange, within a social act, brings the differentiated perspectives closer together. As the child moves physically from one social position to the next, so the child also moves from one perspective to the next, and thus the perspectives become associated together. Second, there is what Mead (1912) referred to as the peculiar significance of the vocal gesture. Vocal gestures are distinct from other gestures, such as facial gestures or bodily gestures, because they are experienced in the same way by both self and other within a social act. "While one feels but imperfectly the value of his own facial expression or bodily attitude for another, his ear reveals to him his own vocal gesture in the same form that it assumes to his neighbor" (1912, p. 403). That is to say, vocal gestures normally sound the same in all the situations that comprise a social act. Visual stimuli, on the other hand, are usually divergent for self and other within any social act.

Becoming Other

19

In order to illustrate these dynamics, let us consider the givingll-eceiving act again. In the course of development, children move between the social positions of giving and receiving innumerable times. Indeed, sometimes young children and their caregivers play at simply giving and receiving things. Repeatedly and rapidly moving from thc social position (and thus the perspective) of the recipient to the social position (and the associated perspective) of thc giver could, potentially, diKerentiate and integrate the perspectives or the giver and receiver. The vocal gesture is also important. While the visual and visceral expericnce of the social act may be quite different for both giver and recipient, the auditory modality is less divergent. The word "present," for example, will be heard the same by both giver and recipient. The interesting thing is that the word "present" can then become associated with both the perspective of the giver and the recipient. The auditory word "present" is thus a constant that bridges the otherwise divergent perspectives. If both giver and recipient associate the word "present" with the perspective of either giving or receiving, and they both do this for cach of the social positions, then the ofgiving and the ~erqectiveof leceir~word "pt-esetlt" evokes both the fie~sfiecti~ie ing sinzultaneo~uly. We have had to abandon the motif of the child and tlie flatne that has been with us since Descartes, The reason for this is that it does not contain institutionalized social positions, and thus it is inadequate for illustrating the social act. Social acts are institutionalized patterns of action, containing social positions, each of which sustains a distinct perspective. Moving between social positions is a means for diflerentintzng the perspectives that are sustained by a given societies social stlucture. The integ-atzon1of these perspectives, into the subtle architect~u-eof intersubjectivity that we are familiar with, occurs through repeated and rapid posi~ significance of the vocal gesture. tion exchange and through t l peculiar The former leads us ir~crementallyfmrn taking the social position of the other toward taking thc perspective of the other, whilc the latter isolates that which is common to divergent perspectives, and thus that which can become a bridge between perspectives. SIGNIFICANT SYMBOLS

Mead's theory of the social act brings with it a novel theory of language. Words, or vocal gestures, which evoke two or more perspectives within a social act, Mead called significant symbols. If a gesture-whether vocal or othe~wise-evokes olily one perspective, 01- response, then within Mead's terminology it is simply a symbol. This distinction, while f~lndamentalto Mead's theo~y,is often overlooked.

20 A. GILLESPIE

Morris, for example, conflates this distinction. Morris argues (1946, p. 347) that for Mead a significant symbol is a "sign that has the same signification to the organism that produces it that it has to other organisms." For Morris, then, the significant symbol is produced by a member of the community, and it has a standardized meaning for all members of the community, including the member who produced the symbol. This, however, misses the point that a significant symbol elicits in all who hear it not the same response, but the same two complementary responses. Mead is quite clear about this: "It is through the ability to be the other at the same time that he is himself that the symbol becomes significant" (Mead, 1922, p. 161). By being other and self "at the same time," Mead is referring to the simultaneous evocation of the complementary perspectives of self and other within a given social act. Mead's distinction between the significant symbol and the symbol is important, because it makes an original and useful contribution to our way of thinking about signs. For example, both Saussure's (191611983) sign and Morris's (1946) comsign emphasize a singular relation between the sign, or comsign, and an object. Mead's significant symbol, on the other hand, is genuinely intersubjective and dialogic for it is, even in its most minimal Corm, the integration of at least two different perspectives. 'The theories of Biihler and Peirce are closer to Mead in this regard. Biihler (1934/1990) recognizes that there may be a divergence between the expression of a sign for a speaker and the appeal of the sign to a receiver. Peirce similarly states that the sign, or representamen, needs an interpretant, and that the meaning of a sign varies with the interpretant. In this sense both Biihler and Peirce bring to the fore the potential divergences in the meaning of a sign. However, they do not conceive of this divergence as inherent in the stiucture of the sign. For Saussure, Morris, Biihler, and Peirce, a verb like "buy," in the context of an economic exchange, refers to the act purchasing, even if, in different contexts and for different people the precise meaning of the word varies. The sign "buy" is considered to indicate one basic meaning-the act of purchasing. Considered from a Meadian standpoint, "buy" has a more specific meaning, or rather, two divergent meanings. Situating the significant symbol "buy" within the social act of buying and selling, we see that it has a different meaning when considered from the perspective of the buyer compared to the perspective of the seller. From the standpoint of the buyer, "to buy" means to give money in return for a desired commodity. For the buyer the commodity is more desirable than the money, and thus the exchange takes place. However, from the perspective of the seller the term "to buy," in fact, means "to sell." The seller gives the commodity in return for the desired money. Unlike the buyer, the seller desires the money more than the commodity. The exchange is intersub-

Becoming Other 21

jective, and the verb "to buy," is intersubjective to the extent that both of these different perspectives arise within the same person (either buyer or seller). The point, then, is that the significant symbolic meaning of the verb "to buy" contains divergent perspectives. The same point can be made about nouns. From a pragmatist point of view, nouns gain their meaning by virtue of being implicated in paths of action. For exarnple, we have already seen how the noun "present" means bolh something to give and something- to get. When one liears the word "present," it evokes both feeliiigs or attitudes. It puts one both in the orientation of receiving and in the orientation of giving. In all cases significant symbols are microcosms of social acts. The divergences of perspective which exist within social acts-between people interacting-are present in the very structure of significant symbols, or words. A significant symbol is forged in a given social act. It is a stimuli that has become associated with the divergent, yet complementary, perspectives within a given social act. It is a stimuli that has come to integrate these perspectivcs. One interesting consequence of this idca is that all knorvledge is linked to self, or identity. To understand a significant sy~nbol is to expericncc the social act f ~ - o ~ multiple n perspectives simultaneously, and thus also to experience ones own role within that social act. SELF-REFLECTION: THE "I" AND THE "ME"

Let us now consider Mead's theory of self-reflection in some more detail. The origins of this theory are to be found in introspection. In analyzing self-reflection Mead makes use of lames' (1 890) disti~~ction between the "I" and the "me." Mead describes self-reflection in the following way: IVl~atis involved in tlie sclf being an object? The first ansrver nay be that an object invcllves a subjcct. Stated in other words, that a "n~c"is iaconceival~lc without an "I." And to this reply must be made that s11ch an "I" is a presupposition, but never a presentation of co~lsciousexperience. (Mead, 1913, p. 374) In self-reflection, self becomes an object to self. Mead's question is, how can this occur? And what does it presuppose. His answer is that self can only be an object, from the perspective of some other subject position. If self is to be "known" there must be a "kno-rvec" There can be no "me" (self-as-known)without some "I" (self-as-knower).The "I" can never appear in conscious experience, for it is always the author of that cxpcriencc. The "I" is that part of self that perceives, and just like tlie eyeball does not normally perceivc itself, so the "I" does not become an object to itsclf. Whatever appears in consciousness is a "men--even if the inti-ospec-

22

A. GILLESPIE

tor turns, to reflect upon a previous "I" position, the moment this previous "I" position enters consciousness, it becomes a "me" and the "I" takes up a new position. So far this usage of the terms "I" and "me" is quite standard. James (1 890) for example had described the self as "dupIex"-part known and part knower. And in Baldwin's (1901) dictionary, "I" is defined as the "subject-self" while "me" is defined as the "object-self." All this is in accord with Mead's usage. The "I" and the "me" are relative to each other -one cannot have one without the other (Markovi, 1987). Mead, however, goes beyond this introspective description of selfreflection. He interprets the dynamics of the "I" and the "me" in terms of his theory of the social act and especially in terms of the significant symbol. His idea is that the "I" position that self takes, when reflecting upon self, is in fact the perspective of an other. The "me" then arises by taking the perspective of an other upon self. But as already emphasized, self does not take the actual perspective of the other, rather self simply takes self's own perspective from when self was previously in the social position of the other. Thus, strictly speaking, we have one past aspect of the self, reacting to the present action of the self. But the important point is to connect the "I" position taken, with the perspectives of others within the social act, for this makes the act of self-reflection hndamentally social. The connection to the significant symbol is in the fact that self-reflection implies that self participates in two perspectives simultaneously. Self must be both the "I" and the "me" at the same time. [Introspective] analysis does reveal, then, in a memory process an attitude of observing oneself in which both the observer and the observed appear. To be concrete, one remembers asking himself how he could undertake to do this, that, or the other, chiding himself for his shortcomings or pluming himself upon his achievements. Thus, in the reintegrated self of the moment passed, one finds both a subject and an object. (1913, p. 374)

The self that arises in self-reflection exists in duration, not in a pinpoint present. Self-reflection reveals self in motion. Self-reJlectionis a mouement between I-positions, the former becoming the object of the latter. If self were simply one I-position at one time, and another I-position at a second point in time, and there was no overlap, then there could be no consciousness of self. There would only be a change in action orientation, or perspective. It is because self has duration, that self can encompass one or more I-positions, and thus become self aware. This brings us back to the logic of the significant symbol. The significant symbol evokes both the Iposition of self within a given social act, and the I-position of the ocher, who is reacting to self. It is the rapid movement from the first I-position to the second, such that both exist simultaneously, that constitutes self-

Becoming Other

23

reflection. Self acts, and then takes the perspective of the other upon that act, while still identifying with that act. Self-reflection is constrained. We are not free to reflect upon any aspect of ourselves. We can, according to Mead, only reflect upon those aspects of ourselves that have been picked out in social acts, and perhaps identified by significant symbols. This is because, self-reflection is most fundamentally about taking the perspective of' the other. I-Towcvel; it is overly simplistic to say that sclf-reflection is cornplctcly constrained to specilic social acts, completely constrained by taking the perspective or specific others. Mead was aware of this, and speculated, that thc perspectives of specific others meld to form, what he called, the perspective of the generalized other, and that this in turn makes possible more wide-ranging selfreflection: We approve of ourselves and condemn ourselves. We pat ourselves upon the back and in blind fury attack ourselves. Me' assume the generalized attitude of the group, in the censor that stands at the door of orlr imageiy and inner conversations, and in the afirlnation of the laws anrl axio~nsof the universe of discoursc [...] Our thinking is a11 inner con~ersationin ~vhickwe may be taking the roles of specific acquaintances over against ourselves, but usually it is with what I have tei-met1 the "generalized other" thal we convcrsc (Mead, 1925, p. 272)

Through diverse social acts, self cultivates diverse perspectives, and these perspectives, as they accumulate, begin congeal into the more general structure of the "generalized other." This structure is the perspective of the community within the individual. It is formed by the individual generalizing their own perspcctives, into a more general structure. Through the generalized othel; the individual thus comes to reflect upon self by reacting to self in the same way t i n t they react to othel-s. The perspective of the generalized otlier is embedded into language. Eve~yword, or significant symbol, as mentionccl, calls out the dirfcrent, yet cornplementaiy, perspectives within a social act. Eveiy word, if understood, calls out the I-esponseof both self and other within a social act. And some words have become generalized, becoming applicable in many social acts, and thus calling out vety generalized orientations to action. Consider, for example, pronouns. Pronouns, such as "me" and "you," are very general significant symbols, applying to no social act in particulal; and instead being applicable to all social acts. Depending on onc's position within a social act, "me" and "you" have the same meaning. As Farr and Romrnetveit (1995, p. 273) have pointed out, "me" spoken by you rncalls "you" to rile, and "me" spoken by me means "you" to you. And if you say "you" then tbe meaning for me is "me." The important point, here, is that to understancl

24 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other

either the pronoun "me" or "you" is to understand the pronoun from both points of view. Thus when speaking about "me," if I understand what I am saying, I necessarily become conscious of myself from your point of view. Equally, if I speak about "you," and again I understand what I am saying, then I become aware of myself fi-om your point of view. This consideration of significant symbols brings us back to the peculiar significance of the vocal gesture. Here we see that vocal gestures serve not only to integrate perspectives, but also to facilitate self-reflection. To utter a word (a significant symbol) is to evoke the perspective of the other-to invite a change of perspective, and thus, to invite self-reflection.

CONCLUSION

The problematic that Mead pursued throughout his life, "the problem of individual mind and consciousness," led him to his theory of the social act. The social act binds together the various aspects of Mead's theoly. It is an epistemology, a theory of how knowledge is produced in social interaction. It is a theory about the origin and structure of language, or significant symbols. It is a theory of institutionalized patterns of social interaction with differentiated social positions. And it is a theory of perspective-taking as arising through position exchange and the vocal gesture. But most of all, I would argue, the social act is a theory of self-reflection. I choose the term self-reflection because it foregrounds the self. For Mead, the problem of consciousness is really about consciousness of self, and the problem of mind is really reflecting upon self's relation to the world. Within Mead's scheme, the self, in goal-directed interaction with others, is the center of gravity about which everything else tunls. Significant symbols are a means for coordinating self's activity in relation to the actions of others. Knowledge is an intersubjective structure that opens up new paths of action for self. And self-reflection, or consciousness of self, arises within social acts by virtue of self taking the perspective of other. While it may seem that Mead's theory has much to contribute, the fact is that there is a dearth of sustained and rigorous attempts to work through his complex ideas with empirical research. This is ironic when one considers the theory as developing out of pragmatism. For pragmatists it is not ideas in themselves that are interesting, but the consequences of ideas. Moreover, the mechanism for developing new ideas, from a pragmatist standpoint, is in pursuing the consequences of an idea. The aim of the present monograph, then, is to pursue the empirical consequences of Mead's theory of the social act.

25

NOTE 1.

The idea that development occurs through differentiating perspectives and then integrating them into a subtle architecture of intersubjectivity, is similar to the orthogenetic principle p~nposedby Werner. According to Mkrner (1957, p. 126) development "p~.oceedsfrom a state of relative globality and lack of dirfcl.entiation to a state of increasing diffel-entiation, articulation, and hierarchical integration."

CHAPTER 2

ELABORATIONS AND QUESTIONS

The aim of the present study is to take Mead's tl~eoly,presented in the previous chapter, and instantiate it in empirical reseal-ch. In a pragmatist sense, our aim is to explore the utility of the theory. When confi-onted .vvith messy empirical data, can the theo~yhelp to explain the errlergencc of a new "mc" and the dynarrlics of self-reflection? The social act that wc will focus upon is the intcractions that occllr between tourists and Ladakhis high up on the Hi~nalayanplateau. But we are not yet in a position to begin the reseal-ch. Even contemplating operationalizing Mead's sornewhat abst~x~se theoiy in an empirical setting, such as tourist-Laclakhi encounters, raises many problems. The basic problem is that the theoly of the social act is surprisingly Plafind tonic. It is more akin to an ideal form than anything we might act~~ally in the world. The social act, as described by Mead, is bounded. But in the social world, no social interactions are completely bounded. The social act is a theoiy of the origin ofsignificant symbols and self-reflection. But in the social world, significant symbols and self-reflective selves preexist every social interaction. The social act presents position exchange as the basis of perspective taking. But in the social world, people often take the perspectives of those in social positions that they have never experienced. Becoming Other: h i i t Socinl I?~temcfionto SelfRelection, 27-49 Copyright O 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form resewed.

Becoming Other 29

28 A. GILLESPIE

As we approach the problem of tourist-Ladakhi encounters, with Mead's theory in hand, it becomes clear that there are three main obstacles to operationalizing the theory. first, the concept of position exchange is overly reductive. Second, Mead does not provide us with a means to understand the content of a perspective, o r the use of preexisting knowledge in order to construct a perspective. Third, there are ferv empirical precedents that we can follow. The present chapter deals with each of these issues in turn.

BEYOND POSITION EXCHANGE?

Taking turns in complementary social positions is c e n ~ a to l Mead's theory of the significant symbol and self-reflection. Both the formation of significant symbols and the emergence of self-reflection depend upon perspective-taking within a social act, and the primary mechanism that enables perspective-taking is position exchange. But is moving between complementaiy social positions within a social act necessary for all perspective-taking? The problem is that position exchange, while common within some domains, it is not common in other domains. There is repeated position exchange within the social acts of giving/receiving, speakingilistening, rvinningllosing, and so on, but what about the social acts involved in heterosexual relationships, parenting, and teaching? Men and women cannot exchange social positions; children and parents also cannot exchange social positions; also, students and teachers rarely exchange social positions. Yet men and women can (to some extent) take each other's perspective, as can children and their parents, and students and their teachers. Thinking more broadly, it is evident that people are able to take (to some extent) the perspectives of judges, doctors, policemen, businessmen, and numerous others, without ever having been in these social positions. More to the point, what about encounters between tourists and members of a very different culture? Neither has been in the social position of the other, yet perspective-taking (to some extent) occurs. How is this possible?

Play and Games: Cultivating and Integrating Perspectives

Mead (1922, 1925) recognized the importance of the imagination in perspective-taking. In order to show how children's imagination enables them to take all the many perspectives that comprise society, Mead theorizes children's play and games.

In play, the child cultivates the diverse perspectives that exist within her society. Initially, the child plays at the social positions of those who are nearby. For example, she plays at parenting, at feeding, at babysitting and so on (Opie & Opie, 1969). Later on, as the child is brought into a larger range of social acts, involving teachers, friends, and the wider community, so she begins to play at a larger range of social positions. She begins to play at being a teacher, being a robber, being a police oficcr, being a doctor, being a patent, being a bus conductor, being a shop assistant and so on. Within the play, she does not confine herself to a single rolelposition, but takes up multiple positions which respond to each other: He plays that hc is, tor instance, offering hi~nselfsomething, and lie buys it; Ile gives a letter to himsclf and takes it away; he addresses himself as a parent, as a teacher; he arrests himsclf'as a poiiceman., , The child says something in one character and responds in arlo~llcrcha~acter,and then his rcsponding character in another character is a stirnulus LO llirnsclf in the first charac~cr,and so the conversation goes on. (Mead, 1934, pp. 150-151)

.

The child enacts one perspective, and that action calls out a seconcl perspective, within the given social act (buying calls out selling, posting calls out receiving, teaching calls out learning, etc.). In play, as Mead describes it, children take up each of these complenlentary sides of social acts consecuti~~ely. Through play, then, the child cultivates the perspectives, 01. experiences, that belong to various social positions-usually the social positions that the child is not allowed to take up in act~iality. But the young child is not stable. When she moves to a new position, she fitlly enacts that position, leaving behind the previous one. Whcn shc is in the position of tlie salesperson, the perspective of the shopper is absent. She is not yet able to mediate her actions, as a salesperson from the standpoiilt of the shopper. "The child is one thing at one time and another at another" (Mead, 1934, p. 159). Having cultivated a diverse array of perspectives, corresponding to the perspectives sustained by the institutions of society, how is it that the child integrates these perspectives? How does she link together the perspective of the salesperson with that of the shopper? The answer is to be found in Mead's theorization of the game. Games are social acts because they have differentiated social positions and entail position exchange. Games are f~~nclamentally different to play. Play is solitary, games are social. In games, the child must coordinate her behavior with respect to the other participants. In a game the child cannot move freely between social positions, as eveiyone's social position within a game must be agreed upon by the group. Moreover, to be an effective participant in a game, to skillfully enact one's prescribed social position, one must be able to mediate one's actions from the standpoint

30 A. GILLESPIE

of others within the game. That is to say, successll participation in games entails self-reflection, in the sense that self reflects upon self's action from the standpoint of others within the game. One crucially important feature of games is that they entail the very mechanism that Mead argues is the basis of perspective taking, namely position-exchange. In the game of football, for example, children take turns at being striker, defender, and goalkeeper. Position-exchange within games enables children to see the game first from one perspective and then from another. With repeated and rapid position-exchange, it is assumed that the perspectives within the game become integrated into an architecture of intersubjectivity within the child (Rommetveit, 1974, 1979). The importance of position-exchange has already been emphasized in chapter I. Games, however, have another important feature, namely, rules. The concept of rules is a particularly important concept, both for children and adults. At a certain age, Mead (1922, p. 162) observes, children have "a passion for rules." Among adults the passion for rules may be somewhat diminished, but the importance of rules is ever present in the form of laws and regulations. From a Meadian standpoint, rules, within a social act or game, are significant symbolic structures that bridge divergent perspectives. The important thing about rules is that they apply equalfy to self and other. Most rules apply to everyone playing the game, and rules that are associated with specific social positions must apply to whosoever occupies that social position. For example, in football there is a rule that can be paraphrased as "no player is allowed to take the ball off the pitch during the game." This rule is a significant symbol. It can be invoked when I take the ball off the pitch, or when someone else does. This is quite an intersubjective achievement, because dribbling the ball off the pitch to avoid a tackle, is a very different situation to chasing a player in possession of the ball off the pitch. Yet the rule manages to bridge these divergent perspectives. With rules, what applies for "you" also applies for "me." The important thing about rules is that they structure perspectivetaking. Before the child is able to regulate her behavior from the standpoint of the group she can follow a rule. But by virtue of following the rule she is subordinating her behavior to that of the group. In this way, the rules of a game can socialize children into the perspective of the group. Laws, both lega! and moral, also apply equally to self and other. Consider the so-called "Golden Rule" which appears to be found in many religions. This rule, as expressed by Mathew 7: 1, is: "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye so to them." Stealing for personal benefit is quite a different experience to being the victim of theft. The purpose of the Golden Rule is to bring these two experiences together.

Becoming Other 3 1

The Golden Rule, like all rules, draws equivalences between the radically divergent perspectives that exist in the social field. And thus, like all rules, it encourages people to react to themselves in the same way that they react to others, that is, they encourage self' to become other.

Example: The HidinglSeeking act

Let us consider 110147 humans master the hidinglseeking act, a social act in wl~iclisomething is concealed and potentially found. This social act arises in many different contexts, from childhood to adulthood. People try to conceal their incomc from the tax authorities, and try to conceal adulterous affairs ft-om partners. Some people must conceal their political affiliations. PeopIe try to conceal their disdain and disgust in ordcr to reinair1 polite. l'eople routinely conceal their motivations frorn somc people but not from others. Indeed, much of the dynamics of self-prescntation hinges upon some attempt to conceal. On the other hand, people are always usually kccn to get beyond platitildes and self-prcsei~tation,they want to know .ridlat others "really" think about their cooking, their dress or their latcst publication. Suspiciot~spartners tly to uncover adulle~y,a n d suspicious teachers try to uncover cheating. In all of these domains, and many more, the hidinglseeking act is eviclent. The cluestion is: How docs our significant symbolic understanding of this act come about? How does the rich architecture of intcrsubjectivity implied in the dynamics of hiding and seeking develop throughout the life course? The hidinglseeking act begins with elementaly games like peek-a-boo. In peek-a-boo the child and the carer take turns in conceali~lgancl revealing their faces to each other (Bruner & Shewood, 197.5). Participation in peek-a-boo cultivates in the child the experience or hiding, and the institution of turn-taking. Mastcring these dynamics enables the child to participate in the game of hide-and-seek, which is doubtless critical for mastering the hiding/seeking act. The game of hide-and-seek has a history that goes back at least to the ancient Greeks (Opie & Opie, 1969) and the game appears to have been independently invented in various cultures (Pandya, 1992). In all cases, two social positions and thus two perspectives can be clearly identified. Common rules are that the seeker closes her eyes giving the hider time to hide, and then the seeker shouts out that she is beginning to search for the hider. If the seeker does not close her eyes, or if she starts to seek before giving a warning, she can be accused of cheating. Each social position entails a different action orientation (i.e., a different perspective). The seeker does not know where the hider is and has the interest of fincling the hider. The hider usually knows where the seeker is, and has the interest of remaining concealed. Because

32 A. GILLESPIE

the seeker does not have any interest in concealing herself from the hider, the seeker often addresses and even taunts the hider, but the hider, having the interest of remaining hidden, must not reply to these taunts or else she will give away her location. Not only does the game of hide-andseek contain and structure different perspectives, but more interestingly, it also entails repeated position-exchange as the players repeatedly move between the social positions of hider and seeker, Peskin and Adrino (2003, p. 506) report the errors that 3- and 4-yearolds make when teaching a confederate how to play hide-an4seek. Theoretically, two types of error can be distinguished. First, children fail to differentiate the perspectives of hider and ,seeker. For example, they might assign both tllemselves and the confederate to the same social position (i.e., they would seek together despite the fact that nobody was hidden); they might tell the confederate where to hide; and/or, they telI the confederate where they themselves were going to hide. Second, sometimes the children do not manage to regdate their actions within one social position from the perspective of the complementary social position. For example: they begin to hide before the confederate has looked away; they simply fail to conceal themselves properly; and/or they do not manage to remain concealed. These errors demonstrate that in order to be a successful participant, the chifd must firstly differentiute the two social positions with their respective perspectives and secondly integrate these perspectives so that she can regulate activity within one social position with respect to the compIementary perspective. This occurs through play, positionexchange and rules. Hide-and-seek begins with play. The child initially joins in the game, usually with the help of an adult. At this stage the adult will guide the child either toward a hiding place, or toward someone hiding, depending upon the social position being played at. The child may enjoy the suspense of hiding or the joy of finding, and may elaborate these perspectives. Simply playing at either hiding o r seeking, then, is enough to aid the child to differentiate these perspectives, but it is not enough to lead to integration. Position exchange is the main social mechanism driving integration. In games like hide-and-seek, there is frequent position exchange. The child constantly moves between the perspective of the hider and the seeker. According to Mead's theory, we expect that it is this repeated exchange of positions that integrates the child's experience of seeking with the child's experience of hiding. The rules of the game will also help to bind these perspectives together. Once this integration takes hold, then the child is able to hide effectively by taking the perspective of the seeker, and seek effectively by taking the perspective of the hider. In short, the child begins to master the intersubjective dynamics of hide-and-seek.

Becoming Other 33

Rules facilitate the integration of perspectives by scaffolding the child's behavior in accordance with the interests of others within the game. Ebr example, initially the child will be give a i-ule, such as, "the seeker must first close their eyes and count to ten." The rule does not make sense from the perspective of the seeker-the seeker wants to find those hiding so why should they close their eyes? The rule only makes sense from the perspective of those hiding-it is a necessary constraint upon the seeker's action in order to give those hiding a chance to hidc. The child wit11 no appre~iationof these intersubjective dynamics will not understand the rule, but will nevertheless be able to follow the rule, and by doing so, will enable the gatne to proceed. By following the rule the child acts according to the interests of the group, even in the absence of knowing the interests of the group. Thus the rule guides the child's activity in appropriate ways, and scaffolds intersubjectivc understanding. Vocal gestures also play an important part in integrating perspectives within a game. What does the word "hide" mean in the contcxt of hideand-seek? It nlcans different things from different points of vicw. From the perspective of those hiding, it means finding a conccalecl location, l-emaining quiet, and avoiding the seeker, From the perspective of the seeker, thc word "hide" refers to the actions of others. It means that "they" go out of view. It also means that "they" shoulcl be found. And so, For the seekel; it leads to movement frorn one potential hiding place to another. I11 the context of hide-and-seek, then, the word "hide" calls out the responses of hiding, But also oj'seeking. The word sounds the same wlicthcr one is hiding or seeking, and thus each can associate it with their actions. Mead's point is that, given position exchange, participants come to associate the word "hide" with botli the perspective of hiding and the perspective of seeking. In this way, the word "hide" becomes a significant symbol. Mastering the game of hide-and-seek, however, is not equivalent to mastering the hiding/seeking act. Once children are bored with hide-andseek, they usually introduce various complications (Opie & Opie, 1969). For example, they begin to play the game in the dark or outdoors. One common variation is that those hiding are allowed to move about with the aim of touching the seeker's base before being seen. I11 other variations, the hider does not hide his or her own person, but instead hides some object, like a button, and verbally guides the seekers toward the hidden object-for example by saying that the seeker is getting "hot" or "cold." Related games, such as kiss chase, cops and robbers, and treasure hunts, which share the same basic hiding/seeking interaction, further enrich and generalize intersubjectivity within the hiding/seeking act. Raising the level of complexity still hrthel; it is possible that ~larrative structures, involving hidinglseeking or escaping/chasing, may further

Becoming Other 35

34 A. GILLESPIE

enrich the evolving architecture of intersubjectivity, further differentiating and integrating the perspectives. Dramatic films, for example, often have narratives that turn upon the dynamics of escaping and chasing or concealing and finding. In order to be able to follow such narratives, the viewer must alternate between taking the perspective of the hider and perspective of the seeker. As mentioned above, hiding and seeking can occur at many levels of complexity. Consider the film L+?Mepris (contempt), directed by Jean-Luc Godard. The film begins with Camille and Paul, a script writer, very much in love. Paul, in search of a neh commission, lets his wife travel home with the film m o p 1 Prokosh, and thus exposes her to his advances. CamilIe waits for an apology, but Paul fails to see the blunder he has made. She begins to despise her husband, but cannot tell him what is wrong, for he must recognize this himself. This film then proceeds to follow the collapse of their relationship, as she hides the cause of her contempt and he seeks the reason for it. In order to understand this collapse, the viewer must be able to take both Camille's point of view and Paui's. The film leads the viewer from one perspective to other, and back-repeatedly. At this level, the viewer no longer takes the actual social position of either Camille or Paul, but the narrative and imagery encourage the viewer to generalize their own experiences of hiding and seeking, and of relationships into the unfolding narrative. Equally, the unfolding narrative then reorganizes, elaborates, differentiates, and integrates these prior experiences, taking the complexity of the hidingseeking act to new heights. There is then a continuous institutional structure that spans from peeka-boo, through hide-and-seek, and into the most complex adult negotiations. Initially children may use their mastery of the hidingheeking act for doing mischief and escaping apprehension. Later it makes possible keeping secrets, either for business or pleasure, and investigating what has been concealed. In the hide-and-seek of adult emotional displays the differentiation and integration of the perspectives of hiding and seeking can become very finely elaborated. What is being hidden and sought can become ambiguous, and each participant can, by taking the perspective of the other, go through many levels of recursive thought. But each level of mastery brings forth a new level of complexity and uncertainty, and so the refinement continues. I call this a continuous institutional structure because, from the standpoint of Mead's theory, all of these interactions and narratives are instances of the same basic social act and turn upon two basic social positions; the one who conceals and the one who searches. At a11 levels of complexity, the fabric of intersubjectivity is advanced by the integration of these two perspectives.

THE CULTURAL STREAM AND THE IMAGINATION

Play and games may be able to explain how children can take the perspectives of major social positions in our society (such as police officers, doctors, and teachers) and the more generalized social positions (such as giving/receiving, hidingiseeking, and talking/1istening). Adults rarely play these types of games, yet they still lcarn to take new perspectives. Is there any way that we can extend this model for adults?

Mass Mediated Imagination Although adults rarely play overtly, tbey do engage i11 claydreamillg and reverie. While this is often a private activity, it also has a public counterpart in the mass media and fictional narratives. Toward the end of his life, Mead (1926b, 1936, p. 408B becatne increasingly interested in claydreaming and the mass media. Once significant syt~lbolsare formed, there is a sort of "symbolic take-orf." Significant symbols allow for thc crcation of new perspectives, composite perspectives, and even llctional perspectives. Adults also play, but their play is at a more symbolic le17el, using tcchnologies, like the novcl, newspapers, drama, atid film to imagine the perspectives of a variety of social positions. Using thcsc technologies, adults participate in the perspectives of film heroes, politicians, superstars, policewomcn, judges, doctors, mourners, lawyers, criminals, murderers, teenagers, presidents, terrorists, famine victirns, millionai~-es, neighbors, Iovers, adulterers, farmers, and aliens-to name but a few. Reverie and collective imaginings, just like childl*en's play and games, cultivates the diverse perspectives that exist in society (and many that do not exist) and integrates these into an architecture of intersubjectivity. Again an important mechanism is position exchange. In daydreams, for example, people change their social position in relation to other people. In the mass media, the consumer is encouraged to participate in tlie exploits of characters, all of who are in a different social position to the viewer. In the warm glow of a reading lamp, or cathode ray tube, the consumer can tour the perspectives of society. In tlie massive consumption of '(human interest stories" we can see people t~yingto get into the innumerable mundane social positions that comprise our society. Other people, their lives, their successes, and failures, Mead writes, "have an interest for us which is rather astonishing when one just stands off and looks at the situation" (1936, p. 3'74). Fly-on-the-wall documentaries, and reality T V sho~vspromise to bring the consumer right into unusual and interesting social positions, and give them a view from the inside. These social technologies enable us to enact in imagination diverse social positions, thus

36 A. GILLESPIE

differentiating perspectives, while position exchange within a narrative, or soda1 act, can facilitate the integration of perspectives. Thus, these technologies bring us back to the twin dynamic of differentiating perspectives and integrating them. In the case of tourists heading off to a far-flung region of the Himalaya, such as Ladakh, the mass media is, as we will see, particularly important. Why do tourists choose to travel to Ladakh if they have not been there before? They are led there by a trail of images. Magazines such as the National Geographic, novels such as Lost Horizon and films such-as Seven Ears in Tibet provide tourists with a vivid image of life in the Himalayavivid enough to motivate many thousands of tourists to tour Ladakh every year. These imaginings include the perspective of those who live in the Himalaya. The mass media portrays the life of Buddhist monks, their daily rituals, and the life of traditional farmers, their pattern of life, and their perception of the West. And, of course, the mass media is also a window on the perspective of tourists for those who live in Ladakh-it provides them with a means to imagine the exotic and alien places that to~iristscome from. The possibility of imagination does not mean that position exchange is not necessary. Imagination is only possible because there has been position exchange. Position exchange sets up the rudimentaly significant symbolic sttuctures that enable imagination. Without some basic position exchange, there would be no significant symbols, and thus no imagination. Moreover, imagination is severely limited by the degree to which there has been position exchange. Perspectives, or experiences, are embodied-they tug upon visceral responses. Experiencing the death of someone close, a mental illness, or becoming disabled or disfigured in some way, are not experiences that are easy to imagine unless one has been in that position. Equally, as we will see, it is not easy for tourists to imagine the concerns and guiding rationales of the people who inhabit the Himalaya. Being labelled "traditional," living in remote villages, being toured by tourists are so far removed from tourists' reserve of experience, that there is an experiential gap that the mass media cannot fill. The imaginings are likely to be faint or misplaced. Out- research question then is, given an absence of position exchange between tourists and Ladakhis, how do they each imagine the perspective of the other?

Symbolic Resources and the Cultural Stream

Humans live in a cultural stream (Valsiner, 1998; Zittoun, 2006). They are surrounded by images, representations and discourses. The cultural stream is embedded in books, films, and newspapers. It is carried along

Becoming Other 37 by television and radio. People connect with it when they go to the cinema or the theatre. And it can be heard in the babble of conversation that pervades evely corner of society. Tourists and Ladakhis inhabit quite different cultural streams. The tourists are embedded in a cultural stream of glidebooks, films, and travellers' tales, while are carried along by a cultural stream involving local publications, informal conversations, and elements of the Western mass media. Many words are used to label the contents of the cult~~ral stream. We can call it knowledge, evelyday knowledge, common sense, representations, discourses, or semiotic clements. But whi~heverterm we use we are referring to msanzngs. Mcanings circulate al-ound so~iety,moving from one group to another. Meanings are propagated tlirough the mass media, and transformed through this process. Meanings are constructed by gmiips, for those groups, in order to facilitate certain actions. Meanings open up new paths of action while constraining others. When we try to apply Mead's theoiy of tlie social act to a real-world context it is apparent that the theory docs not take due account of the cultural stream in -cvhich actors are embedded. Mead's theorizing is at a f ~ ~ n damental levcl. His theo~yof the social act is tlieorized in tlie abstract, it is not instantiated. For example, Mcad's (1936, p. 351-352) makes general statements such as "the process of knowing lics insidc the process of conduct." Such a staterrlent may be valid at a theoretical level: all knowledge may indced arise through human conduct, or social acts. Howevel; when one looks at any particular social act, then one cannot say that all the knowledge (or, semiotic elements, discourses, representations, images, etc.) that is utilized within that social act originated in that social act. The vast majority of the knowlcdgc that actors draw upon within a social act preexisted that social act, even though it may have been constructed in previous social acts. This pt-eexisting knowledge is the cultural stream, and we need to understand how individuals interact with this stream, and how they draw elernents out of this stream in order to imagine the perspective of the other. What ever interaction occurs behveen tourists and Ladakhis does not create knowledge cle norro. Both tourists and Ladakhis enter into these interactions with preexisting knowledge, with images and discourses. The question we should be asking is how does their interaction transform those knowledges, and how do they mobilize these preexisting structures of meaning in order to act within this new social context? Humans may be embedded in cultural streams, but they are not dominated by these streams. Although thought and action may often by shaped by this stream in vely fundamental ways (Bourdieu, 1984), we must not fail to differentiate the individual from this stream. Individuals within this stream do exercise control over which part of the cultural

38 A. GILLESPIE

stream to participate in-to go to the cinema o r the theatre, to go to university or to join the priesthood. Tourists going to Ladakh prepare by choosing to see certain films and read certain books, and most choose to buy a guidebook. Moreover, when we consider the individual within their stream, we find them using semiotic elements drawn from that stream to answer to their own needs. For example, they may use elements fi-om the cultural stream, or the mass media, in order to imagine the perspective of the other. The concept of symbolic resources (Zittoun, Duveen, Gillespie,Jvinson, & Psaltis, 2003; Zittoun, 2004, 2006) conceptualizes how people use semiotic elements (such as books and films), drawn from the cultural stream, as resources to resolve ruptures. These knowledge structures and cultural elements become resources when they are used by one or more people in order to do something. People use symbolic resouires to deal with pragmatic, identity and emotional ruptures (Zittoun, 2001). In the midst of these ruptures people seek out resources within their cultural stream. Representations, songs, proverbs, religious ideas, social knowledges, discourses, common sense, sayings, narratives, the mass media, and the advice of friends a11 offer the individual a range of possible resources for rupture. dealing- with a given The moment of use is always somewhat creative. Within a given rupture, it is always somewhat unpredictable as to what will become a resource, and how it will be used. Knowledge can be taken from one domain, and used in another. fictional narratives become templates guiding action. Emotional problems can be attenuated by the sound of music. What may work as a symbolic resource for one person may have no valence for another. But in all cases, the use, whatever it may be, transforms, to some extent, the symbolic element. The idea of symbolic resources fits very nicely into the Meadian scheme, because it coincides with the action-nrpture-thinking phase-resolution model espoused by Dewey and Mead. Specifically it enables us to deepen our understanding of the thinking phase. When Mead, paraphrasing James, describes the thinking phase of action as "the kaleidoscopic flash of suggestion, and intrusion of the inapt, the unceasing flow of odds and ends" (1903, p. 101) he does not let us know what the "suggestion" is, nor what the "odds and ends" are. He does not speculate about where these suggestions and odds and ends have come from. Are they images from books or films? Are they the voices of friends? And how are these suggestions used? These are the questions that the concept of symbolic resources enables us to address. Tourist-Ladakhi encounters stimulate both practical and identity ruptures. At a practical level, each group needs to construct a working knowledge of the other. Sightseeing, photography, and economic

Becoming Other 39 exchange are only possible if both sides coordinate with the perspective of the other. Without being able to take each others' perspectives (to some extent) these interactions would largely breakdown. Guides would not know what to sholv tourists. And Ladakhis would be unlikely to let tourists photograph them. At an identity level, there is also a rupture. The mere presence of another perspective upon one self is a rupture. Until one can fix the perspective of the other, ones own identity remains somewhat fluid, for a part of ones identity is constituted by the perspective of the other. Accordingly, both tourists and Ladakhis to reconstruct the perspective of the other-and they must do this in the absence of position exchange. They must imagine the perspective of the othel; and within this imagination we expect to find elements of the cultural stream being utilized, and being reconstructed, for the purpose at hand.

Social Representations and the Content of a "Me"

It is easy to say, at an abstract level, that a "mc" arises by taking (or imagining) the perspective of another upon self. But wlien we turn to empirical research it becomes apparent that a "me" cannot bc considered abstractly, it must be studied in terms of contcnt. In f;ict a "me" is all about content-it is about a reflective self-awareness in regards to something. It is not "me" in general that wc study, but only specific aspects, such as "me-as-good," "me-as-unemployed," "me-as-rich," "me-as-traditional" or "me-as-a-tourist." Accordingly, perspective taking is not something done in the abstract, it is always to take a contentjlil view upon the world or oneself (i.e., "me"). If rve are to deal with perspective-taking in an empirical setting, we need to understand the content of perspectives. 'Thinking again of tourists in Ladakh, when we talk about their perspective we need to talk about meanings-about the meaning of traditional societies in a modern world, about the meaning of remote regions seemingly untouched by modernity, and about the meaning of Buddhisn~in consumerist societies. The problem is that Mead does not give us any language for talking about such meanings. Thus, we need to introduce a theory of the content of knowledge and of the reconstruction of knowledge in terms of its content. We turn to the the017 of social representations (Farr & Moscovici, 1984; Voelklein & Ho~varth,2005), because more than any other theoly, it focuses upon the content of knowledge (Duveen, 2000). Moscovici defines social representations as:

Becoming Other 41

systems of values, ideas and practices with a two-fold function: first, to establish an order which will enable individuals to orientate themselves in their material and social world and to master it; secondly, to enable communication to take place among members of a community. (Moscovici, 1973, p. xiii) The first thing to note about social representations is that they have a pragmatic function. They enable individuals to orient themselves and master the material and social world. Knowledge is power to act, and i social representations are closely related to action. Consider Jodelet's (1 989/I 99 1) study of people in the French village of Ainay-le-Chiiteau who take in mentally ill lodgers. Jodelet shows how the people of the village have cultivated representations to differentiate the "loonies" into those who are "simple" and those who are "nervous." Each representation, she shows, has different action consequences for dealing with the lodgers. Those who are "nervous" are not to be trusted, while those who are simple are never devious. In this sense there is a close connection to Mead's concept of knowledge. Knowledge is not a "mirror" or indeed a "1-epresentation"(in the pictorial sense) of the world. Rather knowledge is a means of interacting with the world. Knowledge is intertwined with people's ongoing projects (Foster, 2003). Second, social representations enable people to communicate around a given phenomenon, and to organize their interactions around that phenomena. In this sense social representations are like universes of discourse. They are sets of shared assumptions against which things can be said. They have their own internal logic, their own history, and their own moraI imperatives, and thus tlley bind groups together into communicative communities. We must add, here, a caveat. Social representations do not only enable people to communicate, they are also transformed in the process of communication (Bauer & Gaskell, 1999; MarkovB, 2003; Moscovici, 1972). This is an important additional consideration when we try to understand the transformations of social representations Uovchelovitch, 1995). There is a third point to be made about social representations, but which is not explicit in Moscovici's definition given above: social representations are perspectival. Given that groups construct representations, it follows that different groups can construct different representations of the same phenomenon. Moreover, because representations shape the paths of action around the phenomenon, it follo~vsthat different groups may perceive different paths of action around a given phenomenon, and thus, we can say that the groups inhabit different environments. As Moscovici (1984, p. 23) clearly states: "social representations must be seen as

an 'environment' in relation to the individual or the group." Such perspectivism is quite commensurate with Mead's perspectivism. Here at this point of similarity between Mead and social representations theo~ywe also see the difference between these theories. IVhile Mead asserts that different groups have different perspectives on the social world, he never enquires into those perspectives, or gets embroiled in the specifics of how they might bc different. Yet this is exactly what social representations researchers have done. Why is it that some ideas stick and others do not? Fi-orn a Meadian perspective one would answer in terms of the utility of ideas to coordinate action, but social representations draws our attention to another aspect: the background body of meaning, the cultural stream, in rclation to which that new idea cither makes sense or does not make sense. Social representations theoly suggests two means through which a new idea is made sensc or: anchoring and objectification. Let us consider the concept of anchoring first. When knowledge circulates in society, it docs not pass unchanged fl-om one group to the next (Bartlett, 1920, 1928, 1932). In order to l ~ made c sense of, the unfamiliar aspects of the new knowledge must be rnade familiar in some way. A TITquently cited example of this is Moscovici's (1976) finding that Catholics in France anchored their understanding of psychoanalysis in thc familiar knowledge of the Catholic confession. As we will see, tourists traveling to the remote region of Ladakh, anchor the unfamiliar sight of traditional Ladakhi life into their understanding of their own past-"primitive society." Anchoring, then, refers to the way in the unfamiliar is understood in terms of the familiar. Objectification, on the other hand, conceptualizes the solidification of abstract knowIedge into tangibles. This is our "tendency to turn verbs into nouns" (Moscovici, 1984, p. 42), that is, our telldellcy to turn the dynanlic and complex into tangible and often visual objects. Repeatedly at the heart of social knowledge we find strong tactile-visual images. The popular representation of biotechnology, for example, contains the historical and visual objectificatio1-1 of "Frankenstein foods" (Bauer 8c Gaskell, 2002). Returning to tourists' representation of Ladakh as "primitive society," the subsequent analyses will show how Ladakhis are objectified in the image of the goat herder. In all cases, when the abstract is objectified in terms of concrete imagely, then the meanings associated with that imagely bleed into the meaning of the object. The object becomes its visualtactile objectification. These images are generative: they generate new judgements, explanatio~lsand evaluations of the object (Jodelet, 19891 1991, p. 293). Genetically modified food, for example, becomes bad because it is a "Frankenstein food."

42 A. GILLESPIE

The idea of objectification fits very nicely with Mead, because it emphasizes the embodied nature of knowledge. At the basis of Mead's theory of knowledge is the idea of an embodied response, or orientation to action (Farr, 1997, p. 320). This is what was originally meant by the term "attitude" (Darwin, Flemming), and this is why Mead used the term interchangeably with the term "perspective" (Farr, 1996). From a Meadian standpoint, to see someone do something is to participate in that doing (O'Toole & Dubin, 1968). To understand the percept of a bicycle is to feel, to some degree, the feeling of cycling (for similar ideas see, Lakoff 8c 1 Johnson, 1999). It is this level of embodied response-responses which need no explanation-that the transformation of the abstract or the unfamiliar tends toward. We will be using the theoly of social representations to concept~ialize the content of both the tourists' "me" and the Ladakhis' "me." Too much research on identity has neglected content (Duveen, 2001; Howarth, 2002), and Mead's theory is often interpreted, or at least discussed, without much regard for content. But empirical research will force us to engage with the achial content of each "me." In doing this we will be enquiring into how the given "me" is objectified, and how it is anchored in previous kno-cvledges, images, and representations,

CONSEQUENCES FOR EMPIRICAL RESEARCH

What are theories? And, what is a "good" theory? From a Cartesian standpoint they are meant to be accurate representations of the world. However, from a pragmatist standpoint it is absurd to say that theories present a "mirror7' of nature (Rorty, 198911995). Theories may afford a certain action, and may lead to an anticipated result, but it does not follow that the theo~yis a simulacrum or model of the world-in-itself. Instead of a mirror metaphor, pragmatists propose that we consider theories as tools. Theories are a means of interacting with the world, just like a tool. "When we speak of a scientist's apparatus we are thinking of the very ideas of which he can make use, just as he can use the things which he has in his laboratory" (Mead, 1936, p. 351). Just like the scientist's apparatus, the scientist's theory mediates his/her interaction with nature. In the same way that we cannot say that a scientist's apparatus "mirrors" nature, so we should not think of theories as "mirrors" of nature. But what we do find is that a good theory opens the world up to action and research, it leads to actions that are successful and predictable, and it has consequences that are beneficial-just like a tool. It follows from this that a good theory is a theory that has useful o r at least interesting consequences, opening the world up to new paths of action.

Becoming Other 43 In the light of this pragmatist conception of theory, it is quite surprising that Mead's theory has had such limited consequences. Or to be more precise, the consequences that his theoly has had tend to have been at a theoretical level and there have been few practical consequences or consequences for empirical research. Mead's theory is often quite successf~ilin theoretical debates, and is a powerful invocation against individualism. But this is not our concern. We are in search of the consequences for empirical research. We want to use Mead's theoiy in order to understand a particular interaction, namely tourist-Ladakhi encounters. And in orienting to this task we find that there is a dearth of empirical research that call sewe as a precedent.

The Social Act: A Neglected Concept

Symbolic interactionism (Blumer, 1969) is usually seen as tunling Mead's abstruse tl~eorizing into a coliercnt program of etnpirical research. This traclitioll or research takcs as its point of depart~ircMead's basic insight that humans act on the basis of meanings. From this starting point, classic studies have shown how pcople become deviant (Beckel; 1963), have explored the microtexture of social ties (Whyte, 1955), and how people engage in self-presentation (Goffman, 1959). Across this ~vholetradition of research there is an emphasis on exploring the meanings that exist within the situation being studied. In this sense the studies are geuuincly perspectivist. 'They assume that the participants inhabit a dil2'erent enviro~l~nent to that of the researcher. Moreover, becausc they focus on people engaged in social activity, this tradition of research comes closest to utilizing Mead's concept of the social act. Ho~vevcr,within this body of research I cannot find any examples of empirical research that has systematically utilized the concept of the social act (an omission that has recently been pointed out by Blumer & Morrione, 2004). There is theoretical discussion and confusion around the social act (e.g., Blumel; 1980; de Waal, 2002; Gillespie, 2005; Shibutani, 1961), but \rely little systematic research which operationalizes the key components of the social act, such as position exchange within the social act, the vocal gesture and the significant symbol. This is truly surprising, given that Mead (1934, p. 8) describes the social act as "the most fundamental datum." The reason for this neglect, I suspect, is that symbolic interactionism is overtly sceptical of big theoretical ideas-including Mead's. The preference of this tradition is to put aside preconceived theory, and to derive theory directly from the data (Blumer, 1969; Glaser & Strauss, 1967). While this emphasis certainly had the advantage of gener-

44 A. GILLESPIE

ating a host of interesting research studies, it has been of little benefit for the systematic development of Mead's concepts, such as the social act. The present research takes from the symbolic interactionism a focus upon microinteractions, and the meanings that guide people within these interactions. However, it aims to carry the operationalization of the social act further. That means not just identifying the institutional patterns of interaction and specifying the socia1 positions and perspectives, but also exploring position exchange and the vocal gesture. It means exploring the extent to which perspective-taking occurs, and then exploring how it occurs. It means searching for the const~uctionof new significant symbols, and new discourses. And finally it means identifying forms of selfreflection that seem to originate in that social act.

Perspective-Taking: From the Rudimentary to the Complex

There has been much research on perspective-taking, though not all of this work has its origin in Mead's theory. What is noticeable about this work is that it tends to treat perspective-taking as an ability and as a variable, something that either is done or is not done. Indeed, much of the research is a quest for the developmental origins of perspective-taking. Researchers have found that newborns, only 30 minutes from the womb, seem to be able to imitate actions such as tongue protrusion, opening mouth, closing eyes, an so forth. (Kugiumutzakis, 1988). Pushing the origins back even further, into our phylogenetic past, primatologists have been exploring perspective-taking in non-human primates (e.g., Whiten & Custance, 1996). For example, they have found that chimpanzees will imitate a human unlocking a box by removing two rods. There is also evidence suggesting that chimpanzees will imitate cage cleaning, painting, hammering, and washing. Do these studies on neonates and nonhuman primates lay to rest the problem of perspective taking? By pursuing perspective-taking back into the womb, and back into our phylogenetic evolution, do these studies imply that perspective-taking is innate? And thus that we have no need for Mead's theory of the social act? What do these studies actually tell us about perspective-taking? They clearly tell us much about the phylogenetic and ontogenetic origins of perspective-taking, but they tell us tittle about the actual mechanisms of everyday perspective-taking. The problem is that by pursuing perspective-taking back into the womb, and beyond, these studies seem to have increasingly lost sight of the phenomenon. The ability to imitate tongue protrusion is not what makes perspective-taking an interesting phenomenon. It is too far removed from the complexities of perspective-taking among adults. Can we really compare the perspective-taking capacity of

Becoming Other 45

ne~vbornsand chimpanzees to those of a~~tllors such as Jane Austin and Fyodor Dostoyevsky? What can chimpanzee imitation contribute to our tmderstanding of the failure of tourists and Ladakhis to take each other's perspectives? In short, the search for ever more rudimenta~yforms of perspective-taking may have had the unintended consequence of ignoring the more complex forms of perspective taking. A new research question needs to be instigatecl: How do the nidimentary structures of intersubjectivity that appear present in newborns l' ~y t that develop into the complex and subtle architecture of intcrsubjecti~ most humans inhabit? Turning away from the "origins" of perspectivetaking toward the development or increasiligly subtle forms of intersubjectivity will direct our attention back toward processes (Gillespie, 2006a; Ma1 tin, 2006). So long as one thinks of perspective-taking as an ability, then it rnakes scnsc to study nonhuman primates and young children, since they are presumed to be acquiring this ability-while adults arc presumed to all-ady have it. But Orice one conceptualizes pel-spective-taking in terms of an elaborate architecture of intersubjectivity, that is constantly clevelopirig and being refined, then nonhuman primates and young children no longer have a privileged position for reseal.ch. Approaclling the problem of tourist-Ladakhi encounters, it bccomes clear that perspective-taking does not simply occur. To say that these groups do or do not have the ability to take each other's perspective is to miss the problem. In order to study perspective-taking at this complex level we need to enter into the phenomenological worlds of both tourists and Ladakhis, and try to understand how each is constructing a knowledge of the other. We need to understand the collectively elaborate social representations of the other, and the way in which each group is using the symbolic resources that they have available in order to reconstiuct the perspective of the other.

Self-Reflection: In Search of a Methodology

Self-reflection, for Mead, is the defining feature of humanity-it gives us our agency, our identity, and makes society possible. It is to explain self-reflection that Mead developed the theory of the social act. As described (chapter 1) his basic idea is that in self-reflection we become other to ourselves, we stand apart from ourselves, by taking the perspective of more or less generalized others. Self becomes self-aware, as a "me," by virtue of taking the "I" position of an other. The research presented in the following chapters seeks to explore whether tourists are reflecting upon themselves from the perspective of Ladakhis, and whether Ladakhis are reflecting upon themselves from the

Becoming Other 47

46 A. GILLESPIE

perspective of tourists. This means we will be looking for the emergence of a new "me" within tourist-Ladakhi encounters, and our analysis will have to try and connect the "I" with the perspective of the other. But what might this analysis look like? How are we to actuaIly study self-reflection? Turning to the literature provides much advice, but few examples. Conceptualizing the self in terms of the "I7' and the "me" is a sophisticated articulation of the reflexive nature of the self and thus is unsurprisingly frequently referred to. Yet these references tend to remain at a theoretical level. The I/me dynamic was first identified using the methodology of introspection (James, 1890), and as such it is phenomenologically convincing. But how can we get this I/me dynamic on the analytic table without using introspection? Valsiner and van der Veer (1 988, p. 130) suggest that the lack of empirical research on the I/me dynamic is due to "psychologists' uncritical acceptance of traditional methodology." Researchers simply lack methodological tools to grapple with these dynamics. Valsiner and van der Veer make some suggestions about -where we might start to develop such methodological tools: If Mead's theoretical perspective of "I"-"me"

relationships is taken seriously, the empirical method should specify the specifics of the "I" and "me" at every time interval in the course of ongoing observations o f the functioning of the Self. Subsequently, the transformation of the "1'-"me" relationship, and the emergence of new aspects of the Self, can be traced from the empirical record that preserves the temporal structure of the phenomenon under study. (1988, p. 131) There are two parts to this suggestion. First, we need a methodology that will provide data which preserves the temporal structure of the stream of consciousness. The dynamics of the "I" and the "me" were initially identified with introspection, but introspection-the once dominant method in psychology-is now out of favour. We need an alternative source of data, one that will externalize the stream of consciousness in a public form, such that it is open to public analysis. In chapter 10 I will begin to develop upon these suggestions, and make the case for analyzing tourists and Ladakhis discourse as a stream of thought. Discourse, I argue, is closely related to the stream of thought and, importantly, preserves the temporal structure of that stream. Second, once we have this externalization, we need a method of coding and analyzing which will make visible the Ilme dynamics of self-reflection. We need to be able to identify the "I" positions that are being adopted, and ideally to show their relation to the sociai world. In other cases we wiII be dealing with "I" positions that are very generalized-belonging to the generalized other. We also need to identify the "me" that corresponds to

-:

each "I" position. And again we need to analyze where that content has come from. But most of all we need to trace the movement of the "I" as it moves from one position to the next. What is the logic of this movement? Do these movements echo movements within social acts? In order to pursue an analysis of the I/me dynamic, we also need to expand Mead's conceptualization of the "I" and the "me." Recent research has shown that these internal dialogues are not simply between the "I" and the "me"-the human mind is populated l y the voices and perspectives of others (Hermans, 2002; Hermans & Kempen, 1993). The dialogical self comprises both "I" positions that are identified with, and those which are not identified with-the "I" positions of others (Hcrmans, 2001). Nevertheless, these othcr "I" positions are an important aspect of the dialogical self, especially ifwe take seriously Mead's hasic idea that the self reacts to selr in the same way that self rcacts to others. Inclccd, in order to even begin to empirically cxplore this idea we need to be mapping out not just the "me" but also the "you" or the "they" Tor only then can we study whether the "you/they" does actually become the "me." Accordingly, 1 propose that we expand Mead's conceptualization of the self to include "you," "they," "he," "she," "them," and so on. As well as many difrct-ent "mes" thew are also many different "yous" and eve11 "theys." I am referring to the othcrs within self (Mal-kov5, 2006), which are an important basis for internal dialogues and self-reflection. Our interest, however, is not just with the dialogues that occul- between thesc others within self, we want to understand how the "I" moves between these positions, specifically we want to explore whethcr the "you/they" does become the "me."

FRAMING THE RESEARCH

One of the main challenges for Meadian research is not simply furthering Meadian theoiy, but it is operationalizing the theory that is already there, and thereby turning it into something that can be furthered through empirical research. Repeatedly the theory is espo~~sed at a theoretical level, but empirical consequences for the theory need to be established at the level of research. By presenting a case study of one social act, in considerable detail, the present research aims to explore the ways in which Mead's theory is useful for empirical research. The social act that I will consider is tourism in Ladakh, which I will call the towing a.ct. The reason for cl~oosingto focus upon tourist-Ladaklli encounters is the massive divergence of perspective within these encounters. Ladakhis are from a remote region of India, high up on the Tibetan Plateau, while the tourists visiting Ladakh tend to be relatively wealthy

48 A. GILLESPIE

middle-class urbanites. Each possess a relatively distinct history, and each is embedded in a relatively distinct cultural stream. In tourist-Ladakhi encounters we have a meeting of cultures. This scale of this divergence of perspective is important for each of the domains of Mead's theory that I want to pursue. In terms of position exchange and perspective-taking, tourist-Ladakhi encounters are interesting first because there is such a divergence of perspective and secondly because there is almost no position exchange. Most tourists have never experienced what it is like to be toured and photographed as a representative of "traditional culture.'' Equally, few Ladakhis have been tourists, especially not tourists touring "traditional culture." Yet as we will see, tourists and Ladakhis do take each other's perspectives. Our question is: how? How have tourists and Ladakhis managed to imagine the perspective ofthe other? What symbolic resources have they mobilized to do this? Given the magnitude of the divergence of perspective between tourists and Ladakhis, it is impz-essive that they manage to interact effectively. In the touring act, actions must be coordinated: guides lead tourists; souvenirs are made and sold; photographs are taken; dances are performed; and appropriate meals are served. There is, then, an architecture of intcrsubjectivity between tourists and Ladakhis-there are significant symbolic structures that enable each to orient to the orientation of the other. Does this architecture have a significant symbolic structure? How are tourists and Ladakhis incorporating the reconstructed perspective of the other into their symbolic universes, and how is this constituting new meanings? SpecificalIy, I want to ask, has the touring act produced new significant symbols? Third, the research focuses upon self-reflection. Self-reflection is what Mead's theory of the social act is designed to explain-how we become other to ourselves. The touring act in Ladakh is again wel suited to examining this aspect of Mead's theory empirically. Given the massive divergence of perspective between the tourists and Ladakhis, if there is perspective taking, this should cause self-reflection. Our task will be to study the extent to which both tourist and Ladakhi self-reflection can be made explicable in terms of perspective-taking within the touring act. Do tourist and Ladakhi self-reflection correspond to changes of perspective within the touring act? Are tourists and Ladakhis reflecting upon themselves by taking each other's perspectives? This question brings us back to the first concern with perspective-taking. If they are reflecting upon themsetves by taking the perspective of the other, then how are they taking this perspective? Thus we have three inter-reIated concerns: perspective-taking, the construction of significant symbols, and self-reflection. These concerns are

Becoming Other 49

united within the theory of the social act. The task is now to show how they are related in a real-world social interaction.

CHAPTER 3

TOURISM IN LADAKH

Tourism is the worlcl's largest economy (Icearney, 1995). This is a common observation in the tourist literature, a n d it betrays a ceiitral concern of that literat~lrc,namely economics. l'earce (1982, p. I ) , one of the first social psychologists to look at tourism, suggests that tourism has been understudied because it is associated wit11 leisul.~,not work, and therefore is not sccn as a "serious" sul?ject. Pel-haps for this reason, the discipline of tourism studics oriented toward "serious" economic issues. Researchers have felt "a need to legitimate their seemingly frivolous topic by pointing out its eco~lomicand social importance" (IiXgren, 1999, p. 6). But more recently there has emerged a new body of literature which goes beyond these economic issues, and begins to take the "fi.i~olo~s" aspects of tourism seriously (See also Crick, 1989; Franklin & Crang, 2001; Uri-y, 1990). The representation of the tourist as a na'ive cameratouting dupe, which was originally perpetuated in the literature, is now an object of study (MacCannell, 2001). Equally, the representation of helpless host populations swamped by "hoa~ds"of tourists (e.g., Turner & Asch, 1975), is now7giving way to a more nuanced account of the agency of host populations (Crick, 1994). Tourist-local encounters are powerladen on the one hand, but also sites of agency and self-making on the other (Desmond, 1999; Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, 1998). Becon~i?~g Other: Aonl Socinl Inte~nctionto Self-Relection, 51-67 Copyrigllt O 2006 by I~lforlnationAge Publisliing All rights of reproduction in ally form reserved.

52 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other 53

The present chapter introduces Ladakh, the representations chat lead tourists to Ladakh, and begins to outline the dynamics of tourist-Ladakhi encounters. Tourists in Ladakh, with guidebook in hand, face one set of ruptures, while Ladakhis confronting their tourist guests face another set of ruptures. And in the space between them is a liminal domain in which identities are created and a new "me" arises.

INTRODUCfNG LADAKH

Ladakh, in the state of Jammu and Kashmir, is the northernmost part of India and lies high (10,000 ft.+) in the Himalaya. It is 96,701 square kilometres in size (a bit bigger than Portugal) with a population of about 150,000. Ladakhis speak Ladakhi (cIosely related to Tibetan) and Hindi/ Urdu. Many of the younger generation speak English, which is now the main medium for Ladakhi education. Culturally, Ladakh has much in common with Tibet, including Mahayana Buddhism, social structure and social practices, or social acts. Howevet; Ladakh is distinct from Tibet because it has historically been a border region between Buddhism and Islam. In Leh, Ladakh's capital, the population in 1981 was 8 1% Buddhist and 15% Muslim (Government of Jammu & Kashmir, 1998). Ladakh adjoins Kashmir to the west, Central Asia to the north, Tibet to the East, and India to the south. b r centuries, Muslim traders plied back and forth across its difficult terrain carrying salt, apricots, pashmina, barley, textiles, dyestuffs, and narcotics (Rizvi, 1999). To travel anywhere from Ladakh used to take weeks, if not months (Crook & Osmaston, 1994; Rizvi, 1983). In the 1960s, a road was built connecting Leh to Kashmir, compressing a 2-weekjourney into a 2-day journey. Now, one can fly from Delhi, Srinagar, or Chandigarh to Leh in about an hour. Since the 1960s, Ladakh has been subject to "modernisation" in terms of electricity, telephones, televisions, vehicles, commodities, roads, educational system, and infrastructure (Wangyal, 1997). Howevel; this modernization has been largely limited to Leh valley and there are still numerous villages not connected to either the road or any electricity service. One major force in this modernization has been tourism. Due to border conflicts with Pakistan and China, the Indian government did not allow tourists to visit Ladakh until 1974. Since the early 1980s, about 12,000 tourists have visited Ladakh annually (Singh, 1997). About 70% of the tourists are from Western Europe. In winter, the temperature in Ladakh can fall below minus 30 degrees Celsius, and for this reason about 90% of tourists visit between June and September when the temperature is quite pleasant (and it is monsoon season in the rest of India). Jina (1994) estimates that in 1992, the gross income of Ladakh was

£2,338,174, or, £1 6.70 per capita, 48% of which, Jina (p. 136) estimates, comes from tourists. The other main sources of income are the government and the army. The per capita income is misleadingly low because Ladakhis meet many of their needs through subsistence farming and government rations. Nevertheless, if we focus just upon the percentages, these figures are startling. For comparison, in the Maldives, Barbados and Jamaica tourism accounts for less tllan 20% GDP (gross domcstic product). The economy of Bermuda is one of the most heavily depeildent upon tourism, which accounts for about a third of its GDl? But in Ladakh, tourism accounts for almost a half of the regions income. According to such figures, although tourists visiting Laclakh may be trying to get o E the beaten track, they are in fact travclling to one of the most tourist-dependent societies in the world. The importance of tourism for Ladakh is clearly evident in Lch, thc capital, which has a population of 15-20,000-a tiny population when one considers the number of tourists who pass througl~in the summer monrlls. Due to thc scarcity of precipitation in Ladakh, villages were traditionally built away from the glacial melt-water streams so that the maximum amount of land was available for agriculture. This is tllc case in Lel~. The "old town" is set back up a dry and dusty hill bereft of vegetation. Nearby Cllangspa was traditionally the fa]-ming area. A glacial stream keeps it vcrdant. Although initially the guesthouses were in the old town, tom-ists tcnd to find it bleak and dusty, and so, sincc thc carly 1980s, the main growth on the green fields of Changspa has bccn hotels, guesthouses, trekking agencies, souvenir shops, and internet caf6s. These traces of tourism give the Changspa side of Leh a relatively cosmopolitan feel that is entirely at odds with the rest of Ladakh. Hawkers and restaurateurs tly to communicate in several European languages. A recent food sensation in Leh is High-Life, an Italian restaurant. It has imported olives, pasta, and a stone oven for pizzas. It caters mainly for tourists nursing themselves through their adjustment to the altitude, getting over a bout of "Delhi-belly," or rewarding themselves with some familiar food after a difficult trek. It is also frequented by wealthy Ladakhis, usually those who have made their money through tourism. Alternative popular restaurants senre mixtures of Chinese, Israeli, Indian, "Continental" (European) and Tibetan food. Until recently there was a Ladakhi restaurant, the Ladakhi Kitchen, but it has closed down. figure 3.1 sho~vsthe main market square, which is surrounded by restaurants, and rising in the backgro~~nd is Leh Palace. Much can be learned about what goes on in Ladakll by comparing two of the most numerous shops in Leh-the souvenir shops and the "fancy goods" shops. The souwenis shops are oriented to tourists and are particularly eye-catching. With names like "Aladdin's Cave," these shops spill a

54 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other 55

each is keen to consume the commodities associated with the social position of the other.

OCCIDENTAL IMAGINATION OF LADAKH

figure 3.1. The market square and Leh Palace.

variety of treasures onto the pavement, including: Tibetan and Kashmiri carpets, pashmina shawls, "ancient" t/langka (finely detailed religious paintings), antique Buddha statues, "yak bone statues" and jewelry. To enter these souvenir shops, or "handcraft emporiums," is to enter the Occidental representation of the Orient. There is nothing electrical, plastic, or obviousIy mass produced. One feels one is surrounded by natural materials, earthy colors and much fine handcraft. I have never seen a Ladakhi purchase anything in these shops. But one is guaranteed to find Ladakhi consumers in the "fancy goods" shops that are often located sideby-side with the souvenir shops. The fancy goods shops are much less eyecatching, from the outside, but within they gleam with the products of modernity. Plastic predominates. These shops are stacked with cassette players, radios, cameras, televisions, DVD players, batteries, petrol generators, posters of Switzerland and New York, wall clocks replete with flashing lights, floppy disks, deodorant, modern underwear, branded perfumes, CD players, televisions, satellite dishes and receivers, hair spray, watches, and birthday cards. In these shops one rarely finds tourists. Instead one finds Ladakhis buying what they consider to be luxury items. In these shops it can be difficult to find anything that reveals one is in India, let alone Ladakh. While the souvenir shops sell Ladakhi trinkets to tourists, the fancy goods shops sell modern trinkets to Ladakhis, and

For the Occident, Ladakh has long been an imaginative landscape, beyond the known, and populated by hopes, dreams, and even gold-digging ants (Francke, 190711998, pp. 9-1 1). During the crusades, in the twelveth century, rumors circulated about the kingdom of "l'restor John" some~vherein Asia (Delumeau, 199212000). Prestor John was thought to control a huge and powerful Christian paradise created by St. Thomas. The hope was that Pi-estorJ o h n would comc to the rescme of the crusaders, by attacking the Muslims from the East. These rumors persisted, and in the early seventeenth centuty, Bento dc Goes, a Jesuit missionaly and one of the first occidental explorcrs in Ladakh, set OKin search of mythical lost and isolated Christian cornrnunities (Wessels, 1998, p. 9). Needless to say, he did not find any. By the ninetee~ltlicentury, Europeans no longer feared Muslims or any other group. Such was their sense of superiority that Susie Carson Kijnhart, a missiona~ywho travelled in Tibet from 1895 to 1899 could write: ['llbetan Buddhist religious leaders, or Lnmns] are mel-e children in knowledge, swayed by the emotions that play on tlic very surface of being. During all our four years' sojourn among thc Tibetans of various tribes a i d districts, we did not meet a single one who was conversant with evcil die si111ple facts of nature .... They are living in the dark ages, and are thetnselves so blind that they are not aware of the darkness. (Cited in Lopez, 1998, p. 3)

The idea that Orientals al-e like children, unaware of "even the simple facts of nature" and living in the past, or "dark ages," is central to the discourse of Orientalism as described by Said (1978). Needless to say, such a representation is particularly convenient for legitimating (and rationalizing) missiona~ywork. By the end of tile nineteenth century, there was a permanent missionary population in Leh. They introduced a short-lived newspapel; large windows (for solar heat), potatoes, biomedicine, and modern education. The attitude of the missionaries towards Ladakhis is evident in the following statement by Hanlon, a missiona~y,who wrote an account of ''Ladoak, the Ladahis and theirpopulal- BztddI~is~~z,'' which he intended to: stand as an account of the Ladakis as they are in 1893, useful, ~z~hen hel-eafter education, civilisation, and as we hope, conversions to our holy faith will

56 A. GILLESPIE

have obliterated many of their present customs and beliefs (cited in Bray, 1997, p. 33) According to HanIon, the Ladakhis were uncivilized pagans. With suclz an attitude is perhaps unsurprising that Hanlon and his colleagues won few converts. Today, 20-30 Christian Ladakhi families and a missionary school are traces left by this missiona~yproject, but the project of modernizing Ladakh has passed from missionary hands to the central Indian government and the Jammu and Kashmir state government. In the twentieth century, the meaning Ladakh created in Occidental minds was again one of hope and even salvation. This was objectified in the idea of Shangri-La (Bishop, 1989; Lopez, 1998). Shangri-La was, until its "discovery" in China (British Broadcasting Corporation, 1998), a fictional valley described by James Hilton in the book Lost Horizon written in 1933 amidst a sense of impending war. In the book, Shangri-La is a deep fertile valley isolated in the Himalaya. At the bottom of the valley are Buddhist peasants, while above them, high up the side of the valley, is a semireligious establishment. Here all that is good in modern culture, literature, science, and art, is being stored, so that when the modern world self-destructs, Shangri-La will, like Noah's Arc, reseed the world. While the original idea was that Shangri-La preserved all that was good in modernity, today tlze image of Shangri-Ia is typically an antithesis to modern culture. Ebr example, in 19'78, the National Geog/aphic ran a cover story titled "Ladakh: the last Shangri-La," which described Ladakh as being:

Becoming Other 57 (Mohan, 2002), which is oriented to occidental coffee tables. The caption reads "Archers from the Ladakhi village of Skurbuclzan travel to Lelz for the annual festival." The young long-haired men carry bows, and are wearing the traditional gonchha (maroon overcoat), earrings, and jewelle~y.Here we see the "hardy mountain stock engaging in "ancient traditions" and "not yet encumbered by modern gadgetry." The image conveys tlze idea of an ancient community event. Figure 3.3, a photograph taken by me, is of Mohan taking the previous photograp11 for lzis book. Mohan, who was invisible in Figure 3.2, is now the object of the photograph. My photograph was not taken in Skurbuchan or in Leh, but 10 milcs from Leh, in Stok (Stok is visible 011 tlze far left), and these "ar~hers"were not "travelling to Lelz for lie annual festival." The "archers" have been delejpted by their families to participate in a village festival in order to attract tourists. They are wearing wigs and their ealrings arc held over their ears with bits of string. Mohan, an Indian-Australian, went tlzrough three rolls of film while constructing his photograph. He had considerable trouble stopping lzis photoge~iic51111jccts from smoking cigarettes and laugl~ingat the mocking jibes of tlie "rcal" Ladakhi youths, tvl~icl~ can bc seen behind Molian. These youths wear combat trousers, Hawaii shirts and bascball caps. By comparing these two photographs I am t~yingto point to tlic prcferred persistent tendency (Bartlett, 1932, p. 258J) in the West's tun-ent

peopled by hardy mountain stock, proud, spirited, steeped in ancient traditions, not yet encumbered by modern gadgetry such as matches, gunpowder, or (except for mechanized prayer devices) the wheel. (Abercmmbie, 1978, p. 338) A feef ng that the "simple" and "innocent" life of Ladakhis is being lost through processes of moderniz'ation pervades the article. Ancient traditions are being traded for gunpowder. The message is that we are losing the last Shangri-La. In this article, and related articles, there seems to be something quite meaningful in this loss. It is as if Ladakh serves as a marker of peoples' ambiguous feelings toward modernity. In any case, tourists from across the globe are willing to invest considerable time and money in order to get a glimpse of Shangri-La. This is one of the projects leading tourists to Ladakh, and the prospect of capitalizing on that desire is what led to the Chinese tourist authorities' claim to have "discovered" Shangri-La. Figure 3.2 is a typical photograph of Ladakhis that is likely to appear in the mass media. It is from a glossy picture book, Hiddm Faces of India

Figure 3.2. Archers from the Ladakhi village of Skurbuchan travel to Leh for the annual festival.

Becoming Other 59

figure 3.3. Stepping back from the "Skurbuchan archers." imagination of Ladakh, There is a shared motivation to position Ladakh as an objectification of community cohesion, rich culture, timeless traditions, and premodern innocence. This motivation is evident not just in the mass media, in photographs like those taken by Mohan, but also in his audience. Westerners seem to want to believe in a natural, spiritual, stressfree, and community-focused premodern life. The National Geog.r;aphic,for example, does an extensive trade in such images, in their coverage of "indigenous" communities from all parts of the globe (Parameswaran, 2002). In June 2004, the Natiolzal Geographic published a story about elephant hunting in Tanzania by the spear-wielding Barabaig people. Images portray the Barabaig, dressed in traditional clothes carrying tusks, as if fresh from a hunt. Vigilant readers, however, pointed out that the tusks were stamped with various numbers. According to the editors' subsequent apology (Allen, 2004), these tusks were actually from the Tanzania Department of Wildlife. The photographer had brought the tusks and staged the photographs. Incidents such as this give us insight into the preferred persistent tendency in the West's imagination of traditional societies. Most tourists who travel to Ladakh have not been there before, nor have they been anywhere else in the Himalaya. Yet they do have images and expectations. They are led to Ladakh by a path of images constructed in the mass media. These images objectify Ladakh, and the remote

regions of the Himalaya, in terms of the past. But this is not denigrating gaze, if anything, it is a romanticizing gaze and a nostalgia for that which we have lost. The simplicity and contentment perceived in Ladakh stands as a critique of the perceived materialism of modernity. This is evident in the most popular book on Ladakh, A?~cientAtt~nas:Leai.ningfiom Ladal?A by Helena Norberg-Hodge (1992), which argues that the alienated and bureaucratized West needs to learn from Ladakh in orcler to ~ecultivate local community struct~~i-es. Ancient fixtures-Ladakh is both "our" past and "our" future. Such a representation reveals ho~vdeeply entwined the imagination of' Ladakh is with tlie Western self. In either case, ~vhether one sees ones' past or ones' future in Ladakh, it remains that in Ladakh one sees oneself. When tou~istsbecome interested in traveling to Laclakh, the first symbolic resource that they usually turn to is a guidebook, There arc many guidebooks, but the irnage portrayed is stable. 'The Lonely Planet guidebook, Iizdiniz Hinznlaya (Mayhew Ylunkett, Coxall, Saxton, 8c Greenway, 2000, p. 201), describe Ladakh as "the last Shangri-La" anc1 "one of India's most remote regions." The guidebook promises to lead thc reader through this remote region, towards "ancient" Huddhist monasteries and into traditional villages. In between tlie practical inrormation, and the buxed text on cxotic topics such as polyandly in Ladakh, there are imager;: Images of snowy peaks and smiling villagers, images of goat hel-dcrs and deep river gorges, and images of cl~ildrenat play and Buddhist monasteries perched high upon craggy cliffs. These arc the type of images that lead tourists to invest the time and money in travelling to Ladakh.

TOURISTS CONFRONTING LADAKH Tourists arriving in Ladakh leave behind their normal context and routine, their friends and their work. Once abroad, tourists enter into a new way of living. Eve~ydayroutines are ruptured, and new questions arise: Where to sleep? Where to eat? What to eat? What to do in the morning? What to do in the afternoon? Then there are the questions that relate to the act of touring: What to see? What to photograph? HOWto organize a trek? Where to trek? And so on for the duration of the tour. Tourists arrive in Ladakh w7ell prepared. They bring clo~vnjackets, sun cream, medicines, sun caps, maps, packs, breathable yet waterproof hiking boots, universal plugs, water purification tablets, music players, cameras, sleeping bags, walking sticks, emergency smack food, and gifts (usually pens and sweets) for Ladakhis. All of these are preaclaptations (Valsiner, 1998, p. 388), orientations to a fiiture that is imagined before it

60 A. GILLESPIE

is actualized. But, of all the preadaptations perhaps the most important is the guidebook. Guidebooks, arguably, epitomize what has been called a symbolic resource (Zittoun Duveen, Gillespie, Ivinson, & Psaltis, 2003; Zittoun, 2006). From the earliest guidebooks, which detailed how to dodge a charging animal (Galton, 1872/1971), to present guidebooks, which tell tourists where to get the best filter coffee, guidebooks have always equipped travelers with knowledge and strategies that will help them to overcome the unfamiliar problems that they may encounter. Guidebooks draw upon the collective intelligence of thousands of tourists who have previously been to Ladakh, and make this knowledge avaiIable to the new arriva1. Contemporary guidebooks are often supported by web pages and discussion forums on the internet ensuring that information is up-to-date. Guidebooks directly address the rupture of being a tourist. Guidebooks are not narratives, they are not supposed to be read from cover to cover. Rather, they are organized by place and are designed to be dipped into in order to solve some probIem. Using their guidebooks, tourists know where the good hotels are, how much they cost, how far it is from the airport to the city centre, how much the taxi should cost, which internet cafe has the fastest connection, where they can buy supplies for treks, and so on. They provide maps, historical titbits, itineraries, information about hospitals, police, government, travel permits, holidays, festivals, and so on. Guidebooks point out paths of action, they make the unfamiliar environment of Ladakh an actionable environment. These guidebooks, and their associated Web pages, are institutions supporting the growth and integration of tourist knowledge and culture. Indeed, they have, in the last couple of decades, become so powerful as to reverse the asymmetry of knowledge between Iocals and tourists in remote regions such as Ladakh. In the past, travelers were dependent upon local guides, whereas now a tourist can easily tour Ladakh without ever needing the help of a Ladakhi. In many respects the guidebooks provide more information than a local could, and it is now common practice for guides in Ladakh to keep themselves up-to-date by reading tourists' guidebooks. Guidebooks, such as those published by the Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide, promise to take their readers "off the beaten track," and thus toward the images of Buddhist spirituality, timeless traditions, and secure community that have motivated the tourist to travel in the first place. However, there is no guarantee that tourists will find what they are looking for. Once in Ladakh, many tourists experience a tension between who Ladakhis are supposed to be, according to their expectations, and the Ladakhis who confront them. Especially in Leh, among the street

Becoming Other 61

hawkers, noisy taxis, and determilled guesthouse owners, it can be difficult to find the tranquillity and spirituality expected. Thus the biggest ~ u p t u r ethat tourists face in Ladakh comes from the meeting of expectation and experience. While guidebooks can aid tourists in dealing with many ruptures, this is a rupture that is in part produced by guidebooks. Yet this rupture still needs elaboration. According to Dewey and Mead, it should stimulate a thinking phase which struggles to reconcile the experience with the expectation. If the guidebooks are not used, then what symbolic resources are used? What knowledge do tourists construct in order to harmonize their experiences of Ladakh with their expectations? These ai-e questions we will need to answec

LADAKHIS CONFRONTING TOURISM

Tourists have more significance Lor Ladakllis than Ladakhis have for tourists. Ladakhis are exposed to more tourists than tousists are to Ladakhis. Since 1974, when Ladakh opened to tourists, about 350,000 tourists have visited a Ladakhi population of 150,000, wit11 tourists spending most of their time in Lch, which has a population of only 15 or 20 thousand. While Ladakhis see tourists every year, tourists, on average, only scc Ladakhis once, for a week or two. Scconcl, Ladakhis are economically more dependcnt upon tourists than vice versa. This was particularly evident in 1999 when few tourists visited Ladakh due to the Iqargil war being Fought between India and Pakistan in western Ladakh. While this meant little more for tourists than a changc in their itinesaries, Lor Ladakhis it caused a large economic rupture resulting in many business closures. Ladakhis, then, need a knowledge that will help them to profit from tourists, and to explain the economic power of tourists. The importance of tourism for Ladakhis, how eve^; goes beyond economic issues. Ladakhis must confront the inexplicable actions of tourists. While trekking may seem obvious to us today, it is quite a recent phenomenon (Ki~rhner,1950) and one that has little resonance with previous generations of Ladakhis. The problematic status of trekking is clearly evidenced in Ghulam Rassul Galwan's unique book, Servant of Snhibs ( 1 923). Ghulam Rassul Galwan was a Ladakhi who worked as a caravan bashi, employed to organize and manage men, pack animals, and supplies by Western explorers, sahibs, about a centuiy ago. His book, which he wrote in English, is an account of his life and travels. The most psobleinatic sahib enco~interedby Galwan, was the sahib who, "never travel by straight way" (p. 268). This sahib was one of the first trekkers. Enjoying trekking as an end in itself, he sought to climb the mountain peaks, rather than skirt them, and to go in circles, rather than in a straight line. Galwan and the

Becoming Other 63

62 A. GILLESPIE

men in this sahib's service were so resistant to his mode of traveling that they refused to go with him, and instead remained on the known routes, while he made his own way: We travelled by way [trail]. We looked him as a tiger, which going on hills. Sometime the Turki people and I laughed. Most time I was sorry. (p. 273)

As the early pragmatists observed, ruptures turn the objective into the subjective. The rupture for these Ladakhis in the sahib's service concerns the objectivity of the mountains: are they obstacles to be avoided, or are they objects to be toured? But it is not just trekking that puzzles Ladakhis. Tourists take photographs of people they do not know, they go to Buddhist go?n+a, or monasteries, and yet they are not Buddhist, they choose to leave behind lives of imagined luxu~yin order to visit villages considered by Ladakhis to be "backward." Tourists have, relative to most Ladakhis, vast financial wealth and they give this to some Ladakhis but not others. Some schoolchildren get sponsorship for their studies, but not others, and some guides always get large tips. From the Ladakhi point of view, these actions need to be made explicable, predictable, and even profitable. Ladakhis want to know what meaning they create in the minds of tourists. Do the tourists respect them? And why have they come? Ladakhis have no guidebooks to aid them in dealing with the ruptures of tourism. Ladakhis, although they face a bigger rupture than tourists, have no book that either explains tourists' history, their interests, or how to interact with them. Accordingly, the hdakhis must resolve these ruptures themselves. They must construct a knowledge that is reasonable and practical and which makes tourists familiar.

LIMINALITY: ADULTS AT PLAY

Turner and Turner (1978) use the concept of liminality to conceptudize the pilgrim who goes beyond the threshold of perception of their home community. By escaping the gaze of the home community, pilgrims become liminal. Such liminality, Turner and Turner speculate, is a major "transformative dimension of the social" (p. 2). Through liminality, social relations, identities, and even thought patterns become open to change: Liminality is now seen to apply to all phases of decisive cultural change, in which previous orderings of thought and behavior are subject to revision and criticism, when hitherto unprecedented modes of ordering relations between ideas and people become possible and desirable. (p. 2)

The transformative potential of liminality lies in the ludic nature of becoming nobody. Once the pilgrim has left the home community, their identity becomes unfixed. They lose their histo~y,their reputation, and their famiIiar social positions-they become nobody. Both pilgrims and tourists, by escaping the gaze of the home community, escape the constraints of expectation. They become frce to play with who they are, and how they present themselves. This opens up an arena for being playful, for enacting and exploring new social positions. Such play, as Mead theorized, is an important rrieans for cultivating different perspectives. Tourism, for example, can be a means to explore new possibilities for one's style of dress, one's rnode of self-presentation, one's spirituality, and one's sexuality (Ryan & Hall, 2001). Viewed through the lens of liminality, tourism can be considered as: a cultural laboratory where people have been able to expcrilnent ~ v i t l inew aspects of idenlities, their social relations, or their interactions with nalure and also to use the important cultural skills of daydreaming and mincl-travclling. Here is an arena in which fantasy has become an important social practice. (Liifgren, 1999, p. 7)

Travel affords fantasy because it entails escaping the gaze and expectatiotls of home communities, and may thus pave the way for transformations of self. Thc tourist's body escapes the gaze of the tourist's community and thus his or her identity becomes liminal. This fluidity can then bc taken advantage of as the tourist can try out diil'crent roles, or identities. In Ladakh, tourists climb snowy mountain peaks, trek to remote villages, stay in Buddhist monasteries, tnakc romance with "traditional" Ladakhis, live on rural farms, and in so doing are living out aspects of their identity that are not given voice at home. Tourists tour more than places; they tour perspectives and social positions. Tourists' actions, howevel; are not completely unconstrained. While they escape the gaze of their home community, they become objects in the gaze of the local community, and most importantly, in the gaze of other tourists. Tourists tend to be savage in their criticism of other tourists (Crick, 1989; MacCannell, 200 1; Prebensen, Larsen, & Abelsen, 2003). Tourists in search of the unmodern, or the traditional, will be disappointed at the sight of other tourists. The sight of another tourist may, like a rnin-ol; make visible to tourists their 01~11object-state as a tourist. A tourist alone may direct his or her gaze on the toured population, remaining invisible to self, but when other tourists are present, then the tourist may be reminded of his/her own outsider status. The rupture of other tourists, then, can turn an experience of tradition, into an uncomfortable reflection on tourism. How do tourists deal with the rupture of other tour-

64 A. GILLESPIE

ists? How do they position themselves in relation to other tourists? Again, these are questions that we will need to answer. Like pilgrims, tourists also return home. Although they escape the gaze of the home community while abroad, they must return into that gaze when they return. When tourists return they must take up one or more new social positions. At the very least they will be positioned as, for example, having been to Ladakh. This positioning needs legitimation-the home audience will demand an account of the travels, and an account of any identity changes. Whatever new symbolic capital that the tourist claims will need to be backed up by a stock of travel narratives. The tourists' experiences, experiences which exceed those of the home community, must be made intelligible in terms of the symbolic world of the home community. One resource for dealing with the rupture of the return is photography. Photographic images of places toured and people met become tangible props in establishing a new identity position, or a new "me," upon return (Cra~vshaw& Urry, 1997; Sim%o, 2004). Self-photography is common, especially among tourists traveling alone (perhaps more than others they feel the need to record their experiences). Figure 3.3 shows a photograph of an Australian who had taken a bus to Leh. The bus passes over the world's (reportedly) second highest motorable road. This Australian, because he was traveling alone, asked a feUow bus passenger to take the photograph. 'The sign, which the Australian is posing beside, reads "you have reached Tanglang La top ht. 17,582 ft." Hanging from the sign one can see Buddhist prayer flags. The Australian said, as he showed me this photograpl~,"1 took that for my dad, because he is a scientific man, and he will look at that and go 'gosh! 17 thousand feet, that is pretty hig' " This image, like a souvenir, or a well rehearsed story, may be used by the tourist, upon return to the home community, to substantiate the new "me" of having been 17 thousand feet high in the Himalaya. But the photograph does more than establish this fact, it also substantiates the adventurousness of the tourist. It depicts him, alone, on a Himalayan mountain pass with snow capped peaks in the distance. Thus it supports his claim to having been in the HimaIaya, and having had the type of experiences that his home audience expect. Let us turn now to liminality among the Ladakhis. They neither leave home nor return home, but nonetheless they do find some liminality in their encounters with tourists. Norbu, a young Ladakhi man, for example, started a friendship with Carol from the United States. He told her that his father owned three hotels, that he managed one of them, that his brother was a heart surgeon and that he himself was going to the United States the following year to study Information Technology. As the relation grew into a romance, and Carol was drawn

Becoming Other 65

Figurc 3.4. A tourist's self-photograph.

into Norbu's circle of friends, the story imploded. Norbu's friends told Carol that Nol-bu's father was a traffic policeman, and that Norbu had not finished his high-school studies. Such instances show how Ladakhis can use their enco~~nter with tourists for participation in, and cultivation of, the imaginary facets of their self. While Norbu played at being modern, I have encoutltered other Ladakhis, who, wl~enin pursuit of a tourist girlfriend, play up the traditional side of their identity, claiming, in the eyes of the courted tourist, the position of spiritual, peaceful, and nonmaterialistic. Horvever, the scope for Ladakhi liminality is much more limited than it is for tourists. This is because Laclakhis do not leave their home community. Moreover, they have the added gaze of tourists upon them. Thus Ladakhis are, so to speak, fixed within a second line of sight. From the tourist point of view, Ladakhis are supposed to be traditional and peaceful Buddhists. The identity that tourists extend toward Ladakhis, and other inhabitants of the Tibetan Plateau, is so tempting that it can become a prison. Lopez (1 998), for example, has shown how the Tibetans are "prisoners in Shangri-la." Tibetans, like Ladakhis, are veiy rigidly positioned by the occidental imagination, which leaves little room for

66 A. CILLESPIE

deviation, while rewarding typification generously. How do Ladakhis react to this identity position that tourists extend toward them? How do the Ladakhis take the perspective of the tourists in order to conceptualize who they "should" be in the eyes of tourists? Again, this is a question we will address.

CONCEPTUALIZING TOURIST-LADAKHI ENCOUNTERS

Tourist-Ladakhi encounters have different meanings for both tourists and Ladakhis. The perspective of the tourists is quite alien to the Ladakhis, and the Ladakhi experience of being touted is completely alien to tourists. The perspectives of tourists and Ladakhis are held apart by economics, language and cultural assumptions. Further dividing these perspectives is the fact that there is little position exchange between tourists and Ladakhis--tourists do not get to enact (either in play or actuality) the perspective of Ladakhis, and Ladakhis rarely get to enact the perspective of tourists. In the interaction between tourists and Ladakhis, then, we have a meeting of radically divergent perspectives. Yet these perspectives cannot remain indifferent to one another. For tourism in Ladakh to succeed, and for Ladakhis to succeed in tourism, both tourists and Ladakhis must, to some extent, take the perspective of the other. Tourists want to know what Ladakhis think about tourists and the west, while Ladakhis want to know what tourists think about Ladakhis and Ladakh. Each perspective is something of a puzzle for the other. Tourists and Ladakhis when negotiating the price of a souvenir, or the details of a trek, each need to be able to think about the situation from the standpoint of the other. Guides, for example, need to be able to take the perspective of tourists in order to lead tourists to what they want to see. The questions guiding the present monograph are: How do tourists and Ladakhis take each others' perspectives? And, what are the consequences of this perspective taking? Does it lead to the emergence of nmv significant symbols, and thus new domains of self-reflection and self-mediation? But in order to use Mead's theory of the social act to address these questions, we first need to operationalize the theory. We need to conceptualize the mass of tourist-Ladakhi interactions in terms of social actsonly then will the theory become useful. This is a formidable task in itself. The interactions between tourists and Ladakhis are infinitely subtle and various. Yet the task is to pick out those patterns which are stable, and which reoccur. Social acts are institutions with stable social positions. What, then, are the institutionalized patterns of interaction that arise between tourists and Ladakhis? And what are the social positions that

Becoming Other 67

comprise these social acts? In the next chapter I tiy to conceptualize tourist-Ladakhi encounters in terms of social acts.

CHAPTER 4 .

-

THE TOURING ACT

Herbert Blumer (1 969), one of Mead's students, has triccl to turn Mead's ideas into an empirical social psychology. His starting point is pragmatist. He criticizes both psychology and sociology for putting primaiy causes outside of interaction. On the one hand, psychology usually situatcs the origins of action deep withi11 thc individual-in a set of cognitions, a dynamic unconscious, or a personality trait, for exatnplc. On the otllel; for sociology, action is explained by macrosocial structut-es, f~inctions,or social facts, among others. In such accounts, the interactiotl, rather than being causative, is merely a vehicle for hidden causes. Blumcr's advice is that "the empirical social world consists of ongoing group life and one has to get close to this Iife to know what is going on in it" (p. 38). The point is that when the researcher gets close to lived life s/he does not find the invisible hands of statistics or traits, but people acting on rhe basis of meaning. The task of the present chapter is to enter the micro~vorldof tourist-Ladakhi encounters, and to ask, simply, "what is going on?" While the question may be simple, the means to answer it is complex, its uildertaking is subtle. To o b s e ~ ~"what le is going on" is surprisingly difficult. This is analogous to the problem of being a fish in water-the things -cvhich routinely "go on" are invisible. In order to make the taken for grantecl dynamics of the social world visible, we need a theoretical frame. Our theoretical "apparatus" is the theory of the social act. Beconli?~gOther h r n Social 1?7femction to S e ~ R ~ l e c f i o69-99 n, Copyright O 2006 by I~lformationAge Publishing All rights of 1-eproduction in any form resenred.

70 A. GILLESPIE

"What is going on" in tourist-Ladakhi encounters? Tourists and Ladakhis interact around sightseeing and photography. Ladakhi guides lead, and tourists follow; Ladakhis pose, and tourists take photographs. There is also much economic exchange. Tourists spend a lot of time being served by Ladakhis. Ladakhis put on cultural shows for tourists, they cook for tourists, they sell them souvenirs and take care of their accommodation. Using the social act, to conceptualize observe each of these interactions, we need to ask a series of detailed questions: What are the different social positions that comprise a given social act? How do these social positions interact-what is the logic of these interactions? Do tourists and Ladakhis ever exchange social positions within these social acts?

PARTICIPATING I N AND OBSERVING THE TOURING ACT

My observation of and participation in the touring act began in 1997, when I visited Ladakh with a group of friends. We stayed for 2 weeks and were impressed with our Himalayan adventure. We visited the main monasteries, went on a trek, encountered (and photographed) picturesque Ladakhis, bouglit souvenirs, explored the roads on Enfield motorbikes, and (due to a small motorbike crash) we spent a highly-prized night in a rural Ladakhi house. I particularly remember entering the kitchen, with numerous brass pots, a packed earth floor, and a stove in the middle of the room. There we sat in relative silence with our hosts, who served us Ladakhi tea (a brew of green tea, butter, and salt). At that time, our experience of Ladakh seemed filled with uncertainty, potential, and adventure. Systematic fieldwork began in 2000, and was followed up with extended visits to Ladakh in 2001 and 2002. During this period I spent time staying in tourist guesthouses, a monastery, urban houses, and rural houses. During the 12 months or so that I have been in Ladakh, I have participated in all the main tourist practices (trekking, cultural show, sightseeing, jeep safari, motorbike safari, rafting, mountain climbing, etc.) and many Ladakhi practices (travel agency work, making and selling souvenirs, a wedding, several festivals, spirit possessions, snooker, cinema, religious teachings, political demonstrations, NGO work, herding, cooking, etc.). While I have certainly been accepted, or passed, as a tourist, I cannot say the same for my status among Ladakhis. Despite forming long-lasting friendships and learning the rudiments of Ladakhi, it has been impossible to cease being an angrespa (foreigner). The only time I was called a Ladakhi was when I was cooking for some Ladakhi colleagues. They laughed at me, calling me a Ladakhi. In pursuit of my research of quizzed them about this. It turned out that although they had

Becoming Other 71

all worked with tourists, and cooked numerous meals for tourists, but none of them had ever seen a tourist cooking before. My most recent trip to Ladakh was in 2005. I met with Ladakhi colleagues and continued my participant obsewation. I visited toured some Ruddlii~tmonasteries on a motorbike, I went on a trek (almost the same trek that I had done in 1997), and I clrank Ladakhi tea in the kitchen with colIeagues. 1 even bought some souvenirs. The surprising fact is that 8 years later, I was participating in the same encounters that had first introduced me to Ladakh. Sure the encounters wcrc morc familiar to me, and nly encounters had more conversation than silence, but the basic patterns of interaction were the same. Where previously I saw uncertainty and adventure, I now see patterned institutions-a wcll worn path along which most touiists proceed. Each trip to Ladakh is, of course, ~rnique,as is each tourist-ladakhi encounter. Btrt there is also a pattcrn. Within the torrelit of itlteraction created each year by 12,000 tourists, a thcy pass through Ladakh, there are pools of stability. Sightseeing and photography are the two most pertinent social acts. Feiv tot~ristspass through Laclakh ~vithoutengaging in these. These interactions consummate the tourists' motivations for travelling-to experiencc and see Ladakh. Accordingly, I will desct-ibe these two interr-elated social acts in considerable detail-in each case, idcntifjing the various social positions that Ladakhis and tourists occupy, pointing to the rnpturcs instigated, and qiiestioni~lgwhethcr thcre is any position exchange within these social acts.

THE SIGHTSEEING ACT

The sightseeing act is the central social act within the touring act. Tourists come to Ladakh in order to tom; to see the sceneiy and the Ladakhi way of life. The sightseeing act is the main social institution through wllicll tourists achieve these ends. As part of the sightseeing act, tourists attend cultural shows and religious festivals. They tour the Buddhist monasteries and trek to remote villages. Sightseeing is a social act because it implicates distinct social positions. Tourists do not simply tour Ladakh: they must engage with the perspectives of the local population on the one hand and guides on the other. Within the sightseeing act each of these three groups, have a different interest. Tourists are seeking out that which is authentic, and are willing to travel to remote regions and sit in kitchens to do so. Ladakhis are hying to preserve that which tourists are willing to pay to see. The guides mediate the relationship between tourists and Laclakhis, and in so doing find profit and sometimes a romantic partner. Let us consider each of these social positions in turn.

72 A. GILLESPIE

Tourists Sightseeing

Tourists are in Ladakh primarily to sightsee. The sights they want to see are structured by expectation-largely from the mass media. Once in Ladakh, tourists search out their expectations. Sightseeing is this search for expected images and experiences. But perhaps because the social position of tourists is so much framed in terms of a search, tourists are also preoccupied with authenticity. Fearing that Ladakhis know what it is they are looking for, tourists guard against being duped. In Leh, every evening during the tourist season, there are cultural performances for tourists. The venue for one such show displays a sign in English above the door that reads, "Ladakh what was, and now here for you daily." The entry fee is Rs100. (£1.20). Both the advertising and the admission fee give rise to a certain distrust among tourists: these are perceived to be staged encounters. While watching the performers, tourists note the crisp white shirt collar protruding from the neck of the traditional goml~haor a digital watch on the wrist. In this situation, one way to avoid being duped, is to revel the artificiality of the show, for that distinguishes oneself from the next tourist. With this in mind, the tourists I spoke to were always keen to hear from me how the music in these cultural shows was faster than it "should" be, that there were traces of Hindi pop tunes in some of the music, and that the songs had been abridged or the dances fabricated. Such knowledge is important for tourists because it gives them insider knowledge and allows them to position themselves as less duped than the next tourist. The cat and mouse dynamics in which tourists perceive themselves to be embedded, is aptly captured in MacCanneH's (1973) conceptualization of staged authenticity. Using Goffman's distinction between frontstage and backstage, MacCannell argues that tourists are trying to get from front regions to back regions, while the toured, wise to this search, are busy making the front regions look like back regions. The main problem with cultural shows, for tourists, is that they are the epitome of the front stage, and they want to find the authentic backstage. Accordingly, most tourists are not satisfied with these cultural performances, and they leave Leh, and head out to one of the surrounding monasteries or villagesoften assuming that the h r t h e r they get from Leh, the more authentic their encounters will become. Indeed Lingshed which has a reputation for being the remotest village in Ladakh (4 days walk from the nearest road) is, during the summer season, a veritable tourist center. The search for the backstage is clearly illustrated in the case of a Canadian musician, Chris, who I met. He was in his late 30s, had been in Indonesia the year before, and Latin America the year before that. He aIways traveled alone, saying that he liked to meet companions (particularly

Becoming Other 73

female) on the way. When I met him he was travelling with a younger woman from the United States. Chris spent his first week in Ladakh in bed with altitude sickness. He said he was too weak to go trekking (as intended) and that instead, he was spending a week visiting some of the monasteries, before travelling to Rajasthan, to do a camel safari. As we talked he told me about his recent visit to Hemis monastery. There, he and his companion met a monk who invited them into his quarters for tea. "It was really cool to go with the monk," Chris said, "we got an insidc view." It was the backstage view that fascinated him. He said, "we were hanging out with this monk in his little house, seeing what he ate and so on." For Chi-is, it was the small things, such as what the monk ate, which were interesting. While the cultural pcrCormanccs have been staged, Chris could have faith in the authenticity of his encounter with the monk, and in what he saw in the monk's quarters. Chris' encounter can be classcd alongside my o.ivn encountel; rnentioned above, of sitting in a Ladakhi kitchen drinking tea. From a tourists' perspective such an encounter seems particularly genuine, for being in the kitchen means being brought into the centcr of actual as-it-is-lived Ladakhi life. Tourists feel privileged. For Ladakhis, how eve^; inviting strangers into the house to sit in thc kitchen and drink tea is a most elementaly form of hospitality, and one accordcd to all guests. Accordingly, it is much moly widespread than most tourists realize. Although I have no figures on the mattel; I would spcculatc that almost a half of tourists to Ladakh end up, at some point, sitting in a Ladakhi kitchen drinking tea. This particular encounter we can term the kitchen-visit act, and for many tourists this social act is the apothcosis of an authentic encounter. Authenticity for tourists however, is more complex than simply striving to get backstage. Ritzer and Liska (1997, p. 107) and Wang (1999) have criticized MacCannell's conception of authenticity, arguiag that sometimes tourists search out the authentically inauthentic. This aspect of the sightseeing act is illustrated by returning to Chris. A couple of days after our initial meetingwe met again just before he was about to leave Ladakh. He agreed to show, and discuss with me, the photographs he had taken while in Ladakh. Figure 4.1 shows a photograph he took while at Thiksey gomnpa. The photograph depicts a young monk holding a Coca-Cola bottle. This monk is not conforming to the standard tourist representation of who he "sl~ould"be. The photograph revels in the inauthenticity of this authentic Ladakhi monk. Although this is an authentically inauthentic photograph, it is a staged photograph. Chris said that he saw the monk with the Coca-Cola, liked the connection of the colors and the disruption of expectation, and so asked the monk to pose. The monk made the V, or victoty, sign on his own initiative. Chris made a point of directing my attention to the sunglasses on the monk's forehead-another amusing

74 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other 75

something in common, which is revealing about tourists' aspirations. In both contexts Chris is privy to something. There is a degree of exclusivity to sharing tea with a monk, and equally, not eveiy tourist gets to see the monks with their Coca-Cola. Or rather most tourists think that these are relatively exclusive experiences. These are not exclusive for Ladakhis, but they are exclusive for tourists. And thus, we see that in the sightseeing act, tourists have one eye on their fellow travelers.

Ladakhis Seeing Tourists Sightseeing

figure 4.1. Tourist's photograph of monks in Thiksey golrspa.

incongruity for him. The interesting thing about this photograph is that the tourist is touring the disjunction between who monks "should" be and what they are. In this mode of touring, Chris is immune from having an inauthentic experience because he is touring inauthenticity itself. We must bear in mind that Chris is the same tourist who was so impressed with his authentic (intimate) encounter with the monk backstage in Hemis gompa--of seeing what the monk ate and so on. Chris is engaged both in seeking out authentic encounters, and in reflectively touring the seemingly inauthentic. But both of these accounts share

I I

Let us now turn to the social position of 1,aclakhis within the sightseeing act. How do the Ladakhis react to tourists sightseeing? Do thcy conceive of themselves as inventing tradition (Hobsba~vm& Rangel; 1992)? Are the Ladakhis ~ynicalpurveyors of "traditional cu1trrre"-an excliangc that enables them to buy into modernity (Bruncl; 2005; Tilley, 1999)? While inauthenticity is a tnajor topic of discussion between tourists, it is riot an important issue for Ladakhis. Within the sightseeing act, Laclakhis may be trying to profit fi-om tourists, but they are not tiying to clupe them. Choreographers, dancers, singers, and lay Ladakhis, while being open to debating those small changes that have been made to the danccs and songs for the Benefit ol'tourists, resist firmly the idea that the cultural shorv is a charade. This resistance arises not only when it is I, a tourist, who presses them on the issue. Cultural shows have more Ladakhis in the audience than tourists, and they are not there to see and heal- about their "fake" culture. Ladakhi culture, which is what is 011 display, is far too important a concept in Ladaklli society to be conccptualizcd as a charade. Thus the ciuestion of manipulation or invention of tradition seems to say more about Occidental anxieties than about Ladakhi intentions. Simply put, the distinction between authentic and inauthentic traditions is not important within the Ladakhi symbolic universe. Ladakhis are just as keen to watch a cultural performance for tourists as they are to watch a cultural performance for a purely Ladakhi audience. In the past, Ladakhis rarely "watched" performances of their own culture-whenever there was a dance, evelyone participated in the dance. Today, however, there is more watching than participation. Now Ladakhis take the same social position as tourists, namely, within the audience. They obse~veprofessional dancers on stage perform, and they clap in response. Arguably, they are learning a new mode of appreciating their own culture from tourists. Often at festivals announcers explain the meaning of clances in both English and Ladakhi. While the English commentaiy explains the dance, the Ladakhi announcement both explains the dance and offers reasons

76 A. GILLESPIE

why the dance should be preserved. In a sense these Ladakhi announcers are educating Ladakhis about their own culture, and thus making explicable to Ladakhis why the tourists beside them are paying money to be there. This divergence was amusingly evident during the Women's Alliance "Festival of Traditional Culture" in 2001. A troupe of girls in traditional dress sang a contemporary Ladakhi song, in Ladakhi, about the reasons for preserving Ladakhi culture which the tourists assumed to be a traditional song. AIthough seated side-by-side, tourists and Ladakhis were in different environments. While the Ladakhi audience was being fed the reasons for preserving traditional songs and dances, the tourists were, from their standpoint, experiencing a traditional song and dance. Within the sightseeing act it is not only Ladakhis telling each other that they should preserve their culture, tourists also do. Although the vast majority of tourist-Ladakhi talk is surprising for its superficiality, there are times when culture becomes the topic. What usually happens, in these instances, is that the conversation becomes dominated by tourists, while Ladakhi interlocutors remain relatively silent. Tourists speak emphatically, and without hesitation. They tell Ladakhis that they are "lucky" that they have a "precious" culture and they should preserve it. The peculiar attitude with which tourists orient to Ladakhis, somehow respectful and paternalistic at the same time, is evident in the comments that have been left in the guest book at Stok Palace. There is a small museum and the guest book is prominently displayed. The interesting thing about the comments is that so many are directed at Ladakhis. It is as if these comments are what tourists want to say to all Ladakhis. The following is a fairly representative sample of these comments: "very beautiful--continue to preserve the things," "treasure your treasure," "thank you for the privilege, I feel deeply moved and blessed," "the behavior ofthe staff is rude," "a real step back in time," "would love to wake up here in the sixteenth century," and "a beautiful step back in time to spiritual peace." The comments endow Ladakhis with valuable culture, and they insist that this should be preserved. Within the sightseeing act, Ladakhis are constantly exposed to such comments. It remains a question for subsequent chapters as to how these imperatives are received within the Ladakhis' symbolic universe. Within the sightseeing act, Ladakhis find themselves in possession of something valuable-their culture. Buddhist monasteries, traditional dances ad music, and traditional dress all become objects of value within the sightseeing act. Accordingly, there are moves toward restoration and preservation. While part of this is orienting to tourists, as emphasized, Ladakhis do not perceive their culture as a charade. In this sense, for Ladakhis, their culture has no backstage-it is what appears on the stage for tourists.

Becoming Other 77

Sightseeing From the Standpoint of Guides

Ladakhi guides facilitate tourists' sightseeing and trekking. These guides must work closely with tourists, being aware of tourists' motivations, in order to guide them toward areas of interest. In short, the Ladakhi guides, by v i r t ~ ~ ofethe specificity of their position, need to be able to take the pcrspective of the tourists within the sightseeing act. The various dynamics of this act can be illustrated by consiclerirlg Tsering, a gorizi~n guide whom I have known since for 5 years. Tsering grew up in a village a day's drivc from Leh. He has an arts degree from Jammu University. Wc spends the winter in Delhi studying for government of India exams (aiming for a secure government job), and the summer in Lell whel-e he guides tourists 011 "culture tours" in order to subsiclize his studies. He says that tourists ask many more questions than Ladakhis, that the old Laclakliis havc "blind fiiitli" and that toclap the younger Ladakhis are more inquisitive. Six years ago he did a course on how to bc a go17zpo guide, in which hc had to learn when the main gonz/)o were built, wliicll sect they belonged to and the basic tcncts of Buddhism. Sometitnes the tourists pose difficult questions and recently lie has been thinking about doing a refresher course. Two of the most frecluent questions that tourists ask him arc, "what altitude are wc at?" and "how old is this or that?" These are puzzling questions for lli~nto answer, as neither has any place witllin thc traditional Ladakhi symbolic univcl-se. Accorclingly, he often asks to~~rists if he can borrow their guidebooks overnight ill order to study and prepare for the questions they may ask him. He says that it is vely good for Ladakhis that tourists want to visit the monasteries for it means that Ladakhis, like him, have to learn about their culture. When guiding tourists, Tserirlg uscd to wear a gonchha, and prostrate when enteiing a shrine room. Now, he does not, though he says lie got more tips and photographs when he did. Somc tourists even ask him why he is not wearing the gonclthn. Recently, as a means to increase his tips, he made a contact in the kitchen of Thiksey gonzpa. This means he is able to take tourists backstage into the old smoky kitchen, and offer them some basic monk fare. He says that the tourists like to tly the Ladakhi tea, but do not like the salt and butter in it. Such strategies are common among guides, and illustrate how guides orient to the perspective of tourists. Here we have the kitchen-visit act from the standpoint of a guide. The visit is for tourists, but it is not a charade. When I ask Tsering why the tourists like to go into the kitchen, he is unsure. The young men of Ladakh, like Tsering, are keen to acquire Western goods. In Leh there are numerous "fancy goods shops" selling Indian and Chinese replica Sony walkmans, Nikon cameras, Ray-ban sunglasses, Levis, and Nikes. However, the young men know that the "fancy goods"

Becoming Other 79

bought in Leh are fake, and for this reason gifts from tourists are highly prized. Tsering has an impressive collection of such gifts from tourists: Ray-Ban sunglasses, Nike shoes, a Maglite torch, and a North Face jacket. His most recent acquisition was a pair of Salomon Gore-Tex hiking boots. The boots were a size 10, three sizes too big, and so he asked me if I knew any tourist who might buy them. He had got them from an Italian man, who at the end of a 3-day "culture tour" asked Tsering what size his feet were. Tsering looked at the Italian's feet and guessed that they were bigger than his, so he answered size 8 instead of size 7. Tsering told the Italian that they fitted perfectly. A minoricy of guides resort to Machiavellian tactics to get the desired reaction from tourists. A current strategy involves the reinvention of an old tradition. In Ladakh it is, or at least was, believed that every mountain pass is the abode of a spirit, a Iha, and traditionally Ladakhis have given offerings to these Zhu as they cross over the pass-usually nothing more than a khatags (white religious scarf) o r a prayer flag. Today, sawy guides tell their clients, as they lead them over a pass, that the first time one crosses a pass one must make an offering to propitiate the Iha, via the guide, whose history of traversing the pass brings familiarity with the Lha, and ensures the newcomers safe passage. When the tourists ask what the normal offering would be, they are told it is a meal. Then, given that most tourists do not carry a meal with them, they give the Ladakhi guides enough money for a meal, according to tourist meal prices, which can easily equate to half a day's wages for a guide. Guides, however, are not only seeking money from tourists, they also seek recognition. Most treks in Ladakh involve crossing mountain passes of 14-18,000 ft., meaning that altitude fatigue is inevitable, and altitude sickness common. However, as the air becomes thinner, and the tourists slow down, it is not uncommon for the Ladakhis to, or at least to seem to, go faster. Tourists react saying things like "how do you walk so fast?" and "do you not feel the altitude?" Such comments offer Ladakhis a rubric of favourable attributions which some embrace. On one occasion we had a steep ascent along a zigzagging path. The cook, who had started out after us in the morning, carrying a big rucksack, overtook us and leaving the path, went straight up the side of the mountain! That night while we were eating dinner, he was outside vomiting (a classic symptom of altitude sickness). This observation (along with two others) is similar to the phenomenon described by Adams (1996) in her book Tigers of t h Snow. She has shown how Nepali Sherpa, who live in the vicinity of Everest, are extended the identity attributes of being skilled climbers. Early mountain climbers used to award Sherpa "Tiger" medals for their endurance at altitude. Today foreigners in Nepal expect Sherpa to be "tigers of the snow" and they offer recognition to them for conforming to this expectation.

Another aspect of the guiding act is its potential for romance. The desire to meet a bestern girlfriend is no secret among guides (the vast majority of guides are male). But how to succeed in this venture is still problematic for most. Tsering, among others, has asked me how to chat up l\lestern women. In this Ladakhis are willing to make concessions, in order to become desirable. One such romance involved a woman from Boston, Liz, who had left her office job because she was "feeling a bit down about the general lack of spirituality" and had come to Ladakh "to see the gonzfia perched up on the hill." She found what she was looking for in Hamid, and they started a relationship. I joined Hamid, Liz and five other tourists on a trek, and one day, Hamid and Liz were late for breakfast. When Liz arrived she proudly told us that Hamid was meditating. I-Iaviag kno~vnHamicl Cor about 5 years, and having stayed in his house, I was surprised becausc I had never seen, or heard of, Hamid (who is Muslim) meditaling. Obviously the example is complcx. Liz's comtnent was directed at her tourist audience, and tneant to solidify the significance ol' Liz romancing with a "spiritual" Ladakhi. For Hamid's part, he was orienting to the meaning that Liz was searching for-"the lack of spirituality" in the United States. Here, again, we are dealing with a subtle coordination of perspectives. From the perspective of guides, the sightseeing act, is fillcd with potential retvards. Befriending thc right tourist can bring large tips, generous gifts, maybe even sponsorship for fiirther study or romance. But in order to tap into this resource, the guide must he ablc to incorporate the perspective of the tourists. To theorizc the mind of the tourist, then, is a primaiy aim and, potentially, the key rupture for these guides-this is the unknown quantity that needs to be made known. While the guides may use tourist's guidebooks to aid them in understanding the perspective of tourists, they do not have any guidebooks that answer to their own interests. Instead they must rely on their own collective experience. Accordingly, the guides are keen to exchangc stories about tourists, and are especially keen to exchange tips and advice.

Position Exchange?

From the standpoint of Mead's theory of the social act, one of the main dynamics driving perspective-taking within a social act is position exchange. Accordingly, is there any position exchange within the sightseeing act? Do tourists and Ladakhis ever exchange social position? I suggest that this only occurs in a vely limited way. First, let us look at Ladakhis enacting the social position of tourists. Many Ladakhis aspire to going on tour and visiting foreign countries.

80 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other 81

One of my Ladakhi colleagues, for example, saved up his earnings in order to take his ageing mother on a tour of northern India and Nepal. Admittedly, this tour was more of a pilgrimage to prominent Buddhist sites, than a holiday in the modern sense. Nevertheless, it is one of several instances I have come across when Ladakhis pack their cameras, change currency, travel abroad and take adopt the social position of sightseeing. These instances do imply Ladakhis taking the social position of tourists, but only in the most limited sense. Although they step into the structural and economic position of tourist, they do not step into the symbolic world of tourists. The motivation for traveling is different. The gaze of Ladakhis does not seek out the authentic premodern, and very few admire nature in the same way that tourists do. Let us now turn to tourists taking the social position of Ladakhis. Again, this is rare, but "The Farm Project," an initiative of the International Society for Ecology and Culture, deserves mention. The Farm l'roject invites people from all nationalities to travel to Ladakh for a month of workshops and hands-on experience of life in a rural village. According to a leaflet that advertises the Project: "Living and working with a Ladakhi family for a month gives participants an opportunity to experience daily life, learn about Ladakhi tradition, and witness firsthand the pressures from the consumer monoculture." Volunteers live with Ladakhi families and work side-by-side with Ladakhis in the fields. But are tourists really taking the social position of Ladakhis? Although they are doing the same manual work, and they are living in the same conditions, there still seems to be a divide. While tourists can do the same actions as Ladakhis, it is more difficuft to take the Ladakhi world view. Tourists working on the Farm Project do not get to experience what it is like never having been outside Ladakh, or being Buddhist from birth. They do not experience tourists' photographs-they are not reacted to by tourists as Ladakhis. And thus they are not in the same position as Ladakhis vis-a-vis tourists. While some Ladakhis do travel and some tourists work in Ladakh, Ladakhis and tourists cannot exchange social positions in a substantial way. While they can enact each other's behaviors, it is not so easy to take on the others' world view or to get the rest of the world to recognize this change.

THE PHOTOGRAPHING ACT

In the course of my fieldwork, whilst interacting with a couple of hundred tourists, I met only one tourist who did not have a camera or was not travelling with someone else who did. The camera has become one of the

defining props of tourism. A surprising number of tourists even travel with bvo cameras. So, "what is going on" in the photographing act? There are two main social positions, that of tourist photographer and Ladakhi subject. While Ladakhis may seem to play a small part within this social act, analysis suggests that they are indeed actors within this social act. Tourists' concern within this social act is to get photographs, but the project is considerably complicated by the "reverse gaze" of Ladakhis, that makes tourists feel uncomfortable. While most Ladakhis take pride in being photographed, tourists fccl that photographing Ladakhis objectifies them. Tourists tllus engagc many strategies to surreptitiously photograph Ladakhis. And Ladakhis, for their part, are able to control the extent to which they participate in this social act by controlling their clress (wearing traditional clress gl-eatly increases their photogenic status) and the places they li-cquent (I have beard the Eadakh Festival clescribecl by tourists as a "photo-fest").

Ladakhis in Tourist Photography

The fliincrtr, the voyeuristic stroller, has become an at,chetypicaI modern character (Benjamin, 1973; Jokinen & Veijola, 1997). 'The emergence of tllefla^ne~~r has been linked to the rebuilding of l'aris in tlle lattcl- half of the nineteenth cenhuiy, where old cncloscd communities were ripped open and exposed by a network of new bouleval-cls. These boulevarcls placed people into an anonymous visual relation with one another. It bccame possible to maintain a discrete detachment or privacy in public. The Jinezw exists only by virtue of the anonymous crowd. The JIBVICIL~ arrives, gazes, and moves on with an arsenal of "internal" narratives that take as their subject the gazed upon. Simmel (190811921) also obsei-ved that mass society puts increased emphasis on visual, opposed to verbal, relations. We are increasingly used to seeing people ~vithoutspeaking to them. Before the advent of cities, this was almost impossible. Tourism is a further advance on this interest to gaze, from a position of extreme exteriority, and its principle aid is the camera (Urty, 1990). But this urban practice is quite out of context from a Ladakhi point of view. The idea of strolling, gazing, photographing, and not participating in the life observed is a peculiar product of modern cities and their inhabitants. This activity is quite alien within the traditional Ladakhi life world. I11 the sparsely populated valleys of Ladakh, people know each other, and visitors are rare. In these valleys tllefla^neliris extremely out of place. Yet when tourists arrive, this is what they do. They stroll, they gaze, and they photograph. They rarely stay anywhere more than a night before moving on to the next destination, and they rarely return.

82 A. GILLESPIE

As part of my fieldwork I collected 16 rolls of camera film from eight generous tourists, yielding a total of 462 photographs. Each of the tourists I approached had several rolls of film, and out of this stock they selected 1-3 rolls to share with me. Accordingly, there is doubtless selection in the sample of photogi-aphs that I have collected. Nevertheless, they are revealing with regards to what tourists photograph. 137 of the photographs are of Ladakhis. This in itself is worth pausing upon. If we extrapolate, this means that almost a third of all tourists' photographs are of Ladakhis. If one assumes that each of the 12,000 or so tourists visiting Ladakh each year fills several rolls of film (with almost one third photographs of Ladakhis) then one can begin to appreciate the impact of photography on Ladakhis. Every year several hundred thousand photographs are taken of Ladakhis-who are barely 200,0000 in number. Moreover, tourists' photographs are not evenly distributed among Ladakhis. Using nonmutually exclusive coding, the content of tlle 137 photographs of Ladakhis can be summarized in the following manner: 74 photographs contain images of adults in modern dress, 49 contain images of children, 29 contain images of Ladakhis in traditional dress, and 12 contain images of elderly Ladakhis. These ratios are heavily skewed toward Ladakhis in traditional dress and children. That tourists search out Ladakhis in traditional dress is unsurprising, but the salience of children needs some explanation. Children generally wish to be photographed by tourists. For example, they follow tourists chanting "one photo, one photo"-indicating that they want the tourist to take a photograph of them. It is unusual for these children to request money for being photographed. Rather, it seems they get an identity reward, or some form of recognition, by virtue of being photographed-it positions them at center stage as a focus for attention. On some occasions I have seen tourists get so many requests from children that they resort to pretending to take photographs. Equalty, there is evidence to suggest that adults are aIso appreciative of tourist photography. From a Ladakhi point of view, tourists are a means toward economic development. In order to promote tourism, free festivals, such as the Ladakh Festival, are organized. These festivals, though expensive to organize and unprofitable (they bare free for tourists), are seen to contribute to the overall economic development of Ladakh by promoting tourism. In a similar vein, there is a sense in which individual Ladakhis, by welcoming tourists and by posing for photographs, are also contributing to the development of Ladakh. This attitude is reflected in the fact that, unlike elsewhere (e.g., Bruner, 2005, pp. 117-118), it is rare for Ladakhis to ask for financial compensation for posing for photographs. Ladakhis who attend festivals such as the Ladakh Festival are asked to wear their traditional dress, and by doing so they are tacitly con-

Becoming Other 83

senting to being photographed-indeed not to be photographed might be something of a disappointment. Within the context of a cultural show, Ladakhi culture is meant to be appreciated, and photography is one means by which tourists can demonstrate their appreciation. I remember one occasion when, in the company of a Ladakhi colleague, we visited a family in Nubra valley-tlorth of Lch. We had Ladakhi tea, the conversation was good, and we stayed for dinner. Then, at the end of the meal the energetic lady of the house stood up with enthusiasm, gathered her children about her, and said to me that riolv I should take a photograph. Without a camera I could not oblige. The anticlimax was awkward. I felt that without a camera I was unable consummate the recognition that this woman expected. This, howevel; is not to suggest that Ladakhis always welcome tourist phutography. Scvcral Ladakhis have told rnc that they do not like it when tourists sneak illicit "shots" photograplis ol them, especially wllen they are engaged in menial work. T l ~ etourist gaze, as objectifiecl in the camera, has been rlescl.ibed in tlle literature as having the power to create a cultural revival (Brunet; 2005, p. 1 19), to commodify local culture (Philip & Mercer, 1999) arid cultivate new forms of self-consciousness alnong thc indigenous citizens (Tilley, 1999). In Ladakh it certainly seerlls to be thc case that tourist photography has created a new self-awal-encss among Ladakhis, and has given them a feeling of pride iu their culture. Within the photographi~ig act, Ladakhis are taking tlle perspective of tourists, and derive a sensc of I-ecognition and pride from this perspective.

Tourists Photographing

Most of the research on tourist photography has focused upon the impact of tourist photography on their indigenous subjects. Concepts, such as Urly's (1990) "tourist gaze," have teilded to endow the tourist behind the camera with much pourer (e.g., Crawshaw & Uriy, 1997). Howevel; the photographer-photographee relation is a complex interaction with at least two sides (Cohen & Almagol; 1992). It is not only the photographee who is influenced by the interaction, so too is the photographer. The photographee can gaze upon the tourist photographel; and this "reverse gaze" can play an important role in constituting the emerging self of the tourist photographer (Gillespie, 2006b). This reverse gaze is clearly evident in an unusual interaction that I observed at a cultural festival that had been arranged by Women's Alliance, a local NGO, in order to display Ladakhi culture to Western tourists. The audience comprised a couple of hundred foreign tourists and Ladakhis sitting and standing in a wide circle. At the center of the circle was an

84 A. GILLESPIE

open space where troupes of traditionally dressed Ladakhi women took turns to sing and dance. In this type of situation it is expected that tourists will take photographs, and most tourists were availing themselves of the opportunity. However, not all the tourist cameras were trained upon the dancing women. Several tourists were openly photographing traditionallooking Ladakhis in the audience. figure 4.2 shows a picture I took of a Ladakhi woman being photographed by a French tourist with a telephoto Iens. This particular Ladakhi comes from the remote village of Drass. She is wearing a homespun woolen dress, with traditional jervelry and traditional shoes. Adorning her head is an impressive arrangement of flowers. In many ways she crystalIizes tourists' image ofhLadakh as spiritual and timeless, and of Ladakhis as practicing colorful traditions (Bishop, 1989). The dress and manner of this Ladakhi woman, more so than many other Ladakhis at the festival, conformed to expectation. Accordingly, she was the focus of many tourist cameras. Indeed, during the course of 14 minutes I counted 21 different tourists photographing her. Some of the tourists requested if they could take her photograph, and some even posed with her, but the majority did

Figure 4.2. My photograph of a tourist taking a photograph.

Becoming Other 85

not ask for permission. Overall she was obliging, though I did note she joked with one tourist by pretending to dodge the ,tourist's photographic gaze. The Frenchman in Figure 4.2 was the most active photographer that I observed. He followed the Ladakhi woman al-ouncl the festival taking photographs, and when she sat dolvn, he took up his position in Figure 4.2. By this time the Frenchman's relentless photographing had been noticed by other tourists. Shortly after I took the photograph in Figure 4.2, a female tourist, nearby the photogenic Ladakhi woman, offered the Ladakhi her camera while pointing toward the Frenchman. The Ladakhi woman accepted the camera and began pointing it toward the French photograplic~;and me, behind him. Figure 4.3, another photograph taken by me, sllows thc amusement on the face of tlie Ladakhi photog rap he^; her colleagues ancl the tourist who lent her camera to the Ladakl~i.In terms of' the reverse gaze, the noteworthy featiu-e of this interaction was in tlle manifest embarrassment of the French tourist. The Laclaklii woman's numerous spectators became aware of the camera she hcld, and they S~~llowecl its line of sight toward the Frenchman. The gaze of the other tourists combined with her mitnic~yto create a moment of confusion. As a consecluence, his face flushcd, and his actions became awkward. As Figure 4.3 shows, he lowered his telephoto lens. IIVllile I was able to slip tny camera into my pocket, his large camera became painfully conspicuous. The tourist in the left of liigu-e 4.3 had previously been photographing thc photogenic Ladakhi woman as well, and he, unable to hide his camera, simply began to photograph, or at least pretend to photograph, someone or something else. The French tourist briefly adopted a similar strategy, before standing up and leaving tlie festival area. Given that he could not ignore the reverse gaze, hc decided to simply break off the discomforting iateraction. One could argue that the French tourist was perturbed by the disturbing novelty of this interaction, or simply by being caricatured, but such explanations do not go far enough. The origin of flushing is not simply in the individual's involuntary physiological response; rather this originates in the social field, particularly in the individual's understanding of other people's perspectives. The feeling of embarrassment implies a discrepancy between our "ideal" self-image and the "tarnishecl" self arises from considering how other people perceive us (Edelman, 1987). The embarrassment of the French tourist indicates that his image of himself has altered, not necessarily in a fundamental way, but simply that within this interaction, he has been repositioned (Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998). IVithin this interaction, we can speculate, a new "me" has emerged for the French man, namely, "me-as-a-tourist-photograp11er." And the manifestly social nature of his discomfort, the blushing, indicates

Becoming Other 87

a roughly equidistant object. Then with a sideways sweep, the target Ladakhi is photographed quickly and unsuspectingly. One variation on this theme is to take photographs without looking through the lens at all (this is the method which I used when taking the photographs in Figure 4.2 and Figure 4.3). Using an automatic focus camera, the strategy is to simply, and swiftly, point the camera in the right general direction and take the photograph. With practice this can be done so quickly that it almost dissolves into a fluid motion. Digital cameras greatly facilitate this method because they reduce the cost ofwasted film. Surreptitiously using a telephoto lens from a distance is yet another popular strategy to avoid the reverse gaze. One of the most extreme strategies for avoiding the reverse gaze is to either travel without a camera or to hide one's camera. For example, I met one Australian who, when staying in a gonzpn, and meeting with monks, hid his camera despite being painf~illyaware that he was missing sorrle of the best photographic opportunities that he had cncountered. When I asked him why he did this, he said:

figure 4.3. My photograph of a Ladakhi taking a

photograph of a tourist. that the mechanism underlying this repositioning is to be found in the social situation. He was, I suspect, taking the "I" position of others. During my fieldwork, this is the only time that I saw a Ladakhi take a photograph of a tourist without the tourist requesting it-though noticeably in this case a second tourist has, in some sense, done so by proxy. As such, the interaction I have reported is highly unusual. Yet, this interaction exemplifies the dynamics of the reverse gaze, which to a lesser extent is a necessary potential in all photographer-photographee interactions. The photographee, by fixing a prolonged stare, a questioning look, or even just raising an eyebrow, can momentariiy reverse the relationship between photographer and subject. In a glance the photographee can, like the Ladakhi woman with the camera, capture and objectify the tourist photographer as a particular type of tourist. That is to say, the reverse gaze, in its various forms, can mediate the emerging tourist self. The power and pervasiveness of the Ladakhi reverse gaze is apparent in the diverse ways that tourists seek to avoid it. For example, some tourists pretend to photograph a landscape or a building which is in the same general direction as the target Ladakhi. The camera is thus focused upon

It's the Ladakhis' perception of'me taking a photo-if I have a camera, I am a tourist, rr~hereasif I don't, that tllought is not so )>rotnitlentin their minds. Like say they look at me taking a photo and say "there is another tourist taking a photo."

The reverse gaze has the power to constitute or position this A~~straliari as "another tourist taking a photo." Beingjust "another toul-ist" presents an undesirable self-image. This Australian had made an effort no1 to stay in a guesthouse or hotel and instead had gotle out of his way to stay in a gomprr. He did not make this effort in order to be tagged as just "another tourist." Accordingly, he engages in self-presentation (Goffman, 1959), t~yingto control the impression that he makes on the Ladakhi monks. By not wielding a camera he hopes that he can lay claim to a more favorable, and mom unique, position within the reverse gaze. Although it was important for this tourist to capture his experiences on film, in this instance it was more important for him to avoid the reverse gaze. In this situation the photographic gaze was subordinated to the reverse gaze. It is evident that the reverse gaze can cause discomfort, in the form of embarrassment, shame, or a spoiled identity. Indeed, there is no evidence of tourist photographers, in Ladakh, beaming with pride or satisfaction when caught, with a camera, in the reverse gaze. But why does the reverse gaze cause such discomfort for tourist pl~otograpl~ers? Surely, at least sometimes, this should not be the case-for we knorv from the above analysis of the social position of Ladakhis that they sometimes do like being photographed. Here we have a social act, with each social position orient-

88 A. GILLESPIE

ing to and reacting to the other, but the intersubjectivity is fractured. Whose perspective are tourists taking if they are not taking the actual perspective of Ladakhis?

Position Exchange?

It is fair to say that almost all tourist photographers will have been in the position of photographee, that is to say, they will all have been the subject of a photograph. In this sense, tourist photographers have occupied both of the social positions within the photographing act. However, this is a very loose application of the concept position-exchange. For although tourist photographers might themselves have posed as photographic subjects, this is a far remove from being photographed as a Ladakhi by a tourist. It makes a difference who is taking the photograph, with what motivation, and in what relation they stand to the photographee. As mentioned in the above discussion of the reverse gaze, the incident captured in Figures 4,3 is the only time that I witnessed a Ladakhi take a photograph of a tourist without that tourist requesting the photograph. Given that tourists usually photograph Ladakhis without a Ladakhis' prompt, it follows that tourist photographers have not really experienced the social position of Ladakhis within the photographing act. In figure 4.3 there is a sense in which there is position-exchange, for it is the Ladakhi Dard who is the photographer and the Frenchman has become the photographee. Yet, such an assessment might be hasty for the Frenchman is never actually positioned as a Ladakhi. He is not a photographee because he is "traditional." Indeed, the reverse gaze actually makes salient his identity as a tourist photographer. Thus within the photographing act there are certainly moments when tourists move position, but exactly ~vhichposition they move to is a moot point. I suggest that they are rarely, if ever, actually participating in the social position of Ladakhis. When we look at the photographing act from the Ladakhi perspective, there is some noteworthy play of social positions. Ladakhis are surprisingly keen photographers when compared to other populations within India. Most of the younger Ladakhis have photo albums, and they are keen to show them. Indeed, many Ladakhis purchase cameras and take photographs of themselves, their friends and their family-at times staged with a surprisingly touristic backdrop. Upon befriending Ladakhis, there invariably comes a time when their photo album is brought out. Catering to this enthusiasm, in Leh the shops that develop photographic film will also take portrait photographs very cheaply. When purchasing these photographs, locals can choose from a variety of painted backdrops, including the Taj Mahal, a city skyline and a leafy forest.

Becoming Other 89

While it would be simplistic to suggest that Ladakhis' propensity for photography is solely to "play" (in a Meadian sense) at being tourist photographers, there is certainly a sense in which Ladakhi children are playing with the position of tourist photographer. Ladakhi children, as mentioned, are well aware of tourist photographers. They call after tourists "one photo, onc photo" and relish being the subject of tourist photography. The interesting thing, bowevel; is that these same children also cnjoy playing at being tourist photograpllers. Figure 4.4 presents a noncontrived photograph I took of a young 1,adakhi child who was playing with a toy camera. But again, while the example illustrates some degree of position exchange, we must again question that degl-ee. Playing with a toy camera, striking a tourist pose, these are actions that are u~ilikelyto call forth the tourists' symbolic universe. These actions in tl~cnlselvesdo not reveal why tourists take photographs, and thus again the limited nature of this position cxchange must be emphasized. THE SERVING ACT

Tourism is a particularly consumerist institution. Toul-ists, once abroad, must pay for everything: each night's accommodation, each meal, and most activities. Within each oi' these domains, tourists pay locals to setvc thcm. In Ladakh, the serving act arises in trcks, clurii~gsigl~tsecing,in g~~esthouses and hotels and in restaurants. Across these diverse contexts, the senring act, sustains the social position of tourists as possessing ecnnornic power and the social position of Ladakhis as desirous of that economic power, and thus willing to sei-ve.

Tourist Consumers

Tourists fi-om high-income countries traveling in low income-countries find that they are possession of m ~ ~ ceconomic li polvec Part of the liminality of being a tourist in India, is carried by this financial power to enact consumerist dreams. Eating out in restaurants, staying in hotels, taking taxis, and renting motorbikes are all much more affordable in India compared to high-income countries. Particularly cheap are all labor intensive prod~~cts (souvenirs, jewelry, textiles etc.) and seivices (guides, massage, laund~yetc.). While tourists themselves rarely admit to reveling in the power of their currency, they certainly do spend much time being seived in numerous ways. The dynamics of the senring act are particularly evident on treks, when tourists and Ladakhis have to live in close contact. Tourists on a

90 A. GILLESPIE

figure 4..4. My photograph of a hdakhi child playing at photography.

Becoming Other 91

I

trek have a guide, a cook, a pony man, and usually a helper. Every meal is composed of several courses and is served to the tourists. The guides and cooks know to prepare Indian or European food rather than Ladakhi food, which they say tourists find "a little bit heavy." Tables and chairs are often brought along. After the meal the dirty plates and pots vanish. When the tourists arrive at the campsite for the night, the kitchen and dining tents are pitched, when they wake in the morning they are senred tea in bed, and when they set out for the walk they are given snacks and boiled water. Meanwhile, the cook, helper and pony man eat the leftovers, are not provided with lunch (they must keep walking so as to arrive at the camp before the tourists), and besides having to do the same trek, are expected to prepare everything for the tourists.

Within the serving act, tourists have a particular concern for hygiene. Food-sickness and health concerns are ever present for tourists, and within the seming act they entillst their health to Ladakhis. Accordingly, problems arise when they fear that those serving are not maintaining sufficient standards of hygiene. On one trek a Canadian man was appalled at the "thousand year old rag" which the helper was using to clean the plates and cups. He confronted the helper asking him to wash the "rag." On the same trek, each and every morning the cook would draw water from a nearby stream and boil it for the tourists, and the vely samc man, reproached the cook for not doing so for the full 10 tnintrtcs recommended in the guidebook. Subsequently, each morning he timed the duration of the boil. On a different trek, our cook, who had much experience ~vorkingwith tourists and very good English, asked an Australian woman in our party if he could have some of her drinking watcc She replied sotnewhat awkxvardly, "well (pause) but you miglit havc germs, have a cold, I don't likc to share my water." These instances are significant in that there is a ~ x p t u r ein the seiving act. Tourists becotne concerned about hyygieae, and they communicate this anxicty to those serving them -thus positioning them as unhygienic. Anothcr discomfort, for tourists, within the serving act is the exchange of tnoncy. Employiug 1,adakhis and buying souvenirs creates an awkward arnbivalcnce for the tourist who is in pursuit of images of spiriluality and nonmateriaIism. The problern is that one of the main media through which they interact with Ladakhis, and through which they pursue these images, is moncy. It is rnoney that brings them to Ladakh, enables them to sunrive in Ladakh, and to sightsee. It is money that gives them access to the "authentic" souvenirs they so desire. It is money that they pay in order to trek to remote "authentic" villagcs. Evely exchange of money, and particularly evcly instance of being over-charged or "scammed," repositions the tourist as a dupe. To pm-chase one's "authentic" experiences is to taint them with materialism from the outset. And to be conned in the process, is to position oneself as further removed from the "real" Ladakh. Within the serving act, however, tourists do engage in some limited self-reflection. On one trek that I joined, the group refilsed to travel with a dining table and chairs, and forced the guide to leave it behind in Leh because it was "too colonial." This reflection was short-lived. When up011 the trail, at designated campsites, we sat on the floor in our dinning tent and a couple of fellow tourists lamented leaving the chairs behind. Another domain in which there seems to be a twinge of guilt from tourists, again upon treks, is in regard to the washing up. While in restaurants tourists are quite happy that their dirty dishes are dealt with someone out of sight, the problem of dirty plates on treks is more conspicuous. Usually on treks there is some effort to help with the washing up-but one

92 A. GILLESPIE

encounter with a glacial stream is usually enough to quash any h r t h e r attempts.

Ladakhis Serving Tourists

Within the serving act, tourists do have much economic power. The are " c a d rich" and they can use this to command Ladakhi labor because Ladakhis are in pursuit of money. It is fair to say that most Ladakhis involved in tourism are primarily t~yingto earn an income. In order to do this effectively, they orient to the interests of tourists. One way of getting tourists to part with their cash, is by selling them souvenirs, and Ladakhis and Kashmiris are veiy successful at temping tourists with their "antique" wares. From a tourists' point of view, the most eye-catching buildings on Leh's streets are the "art paIaces" and "Kashrnir handcraft emporiums." With names like "Aladdin's cave," these shops spill onto the street Rashmiri carpets (made of silk, wool, or artificial silk), pashmina shawIs (pashmina is a very expensive textile made from the very fine hair found on high altitude goats in Ladakh, but most of the shawls sold are made of viscose), "ancient" thangka (finely detailed religious paintings on silk, often mass produced by child labor in Nepal), antique Buddha statues (in various metals, plasters, and plastics), "yak bone statues" (which I have never seen anywllere else in Ladakh) and jewelry (of various qualities). In the tourist mind these displays are analogous to the Venus flytrap and the chant of shopkeepers, "pashmina, gold, ancient thangka, turquoise," to the sircn's call. They are tempting because they offer the authentic Ladakh neatly packaged for tourist consumption and identity narration. They are dangerous because in the act of bargaining for these desirables, tourists lack relevant knowledge relative to the sellers. Bargaining for antiques, or any other commodity, redresses the balance of power between tourists and Ladakhis. WhiIe tourists have cash, they lack knowledge. Within bargaining one can see tourists and Ladakhis trade cash against knowledge. And in terms of bargaining strategies, it is the Ladakhis who have the experience. Dealing with tourists day-in, dayout, has given them a finely tuned ability to make tourists feel like they are getting the upper hand. With a skilled shopkeeper the tourist is left feeling that he or she has impoverished the shopkeeper, regardless of the price paid. With a skilled shopkeeper the tourist, even if paying way over the odds, feels a sense of indebtedness, as if the shopkeeper has been particularly generous. In these interactions, Ladakhis exercise considerable skill and agency (Gillespie, in press b).

Becoming Other 93

Tipping is another domain in which tourists flex their economic power. With surprisingly little reflection, tourists make choices eve~ydayabout which Ladakhis to reward and which to punish. When asked tourists say that they tip those who give good service, who are friendly and who look like they need it. But those who need tourists' cash enough to tiy and overcharge, or those who are impolite, are deemed not worthy. From the Ladakhi social position this creates a rupture. They want to know: What actions encourage tipping? Unsurprisingly, Ladakhis have elaborated just such knowledge. The trekking guides tell me that saving women who fall while crossing one of the glacial streams is particularly profitable. We liavc already seen how Tsering was given a pair of Salomon hiking boots as a tip, and this is quite common. In order to promote such tipping several guides deliberately go trekking in gear that seems flimsy-hoping that tourists will take pity otl them. Ilowever, such behavior is somewhat scorned upon among the guides for it comes close to hegging. None of the guides ever opeilly ask for gifts..This is in part becausc due to rules, established by trekking agencies, which guides are mcant to follow, and partly due to sclf-respect. Rut it also seems, in part, to be a f~~nction of Ladakhis knowlcdge that the best way to get tips ft-om tourists is not to ask. Tow-ists scem particulal-ly gcnerous toward Ladakhis who they perceive to be untainted by money, or at least those Ladakhis who they do not feel are trying to get moxiey from them. Whe11rnoncy is involved tourists arc likely to feel that the authenticity of the encounter has been corrupted. Accordingly, Ladakhis are in the awkward position of bcing rewarded with money for not appearing interestcd in money (i.e., conforming to the represcntation of who tourists think Ladakhis should be).

Position Exchange?

More than either the sightseeing act or the photographing act, there is evidence for position exchange within the sewing act. The serving act occurs across the world. Indeed, many of the tourists who visit Ladakh work in the service indust~y.Eq~ially,tourists are not the only ones to frequent the restaurants in Leh, Ladakhis also do this. Both Ladakhi children and children in high-income countries play at the sel-ving act. All tourists and Ladakhis have been in the social positions of buying and selling, of commanding and obeying, of consuming and sei~ling.Position exchange at this general level is fundamental to the touring act. Both tourists and Ladakhis understand commands; both can command and obey. Both tourists and Ladakhis understand economic exchange; both can bargain. In bargaining and as much as orclering something in a restaurant, both parties must coordinate to the perspective of the other, and

94 A. GILLESPIE

this is possible because each has, to some extent, been in the social position of the other. Yet we must not overstate the case. Position exchange within this social act is again limited. The serving act in Ladakh is quite different from the social acts that tourists, at home in their high-income countries, may have experienced. Equally, while Ladakhis may frequent restaurants, use taxis, buy "fancy goods" and so on, there remains a semantic barrier. Within the serving act they are not positioned by others as tourists, and thus not accorded the symbolic power of tourists. The importance of being identified as a tourist is illustrated in the follo~vingstory about a Ladakhi being mistaken a for tourist while in India. Ladakhis have facial features that are quite different from the majority of Indians-they look more Tibetan. Accordingly, when Ladakhis are in Delhi and other parts of India, they are sometimes mistaken for tourists from the ~ a East. r Hasan: We went to one of the big shopping complexes in Delbi. There were so many Kashmiri shops. We were getting a rucksack, a camera, a money bag .... We went to a Kashmiri shop, we just went. And we are Ladakhi and they thought we were either from Korea, Taiwan, or japan [laugh]. "Excuse me Sir would you like to see my shop, please come inside." I said "I just want to know the price of this thangka [a Buddhist painting]," and he said 12,000 rupees [everyone laugh]. I said "please, where is this thangka from?" He said, very seriously, "this thangka is from Ladakh!" [everyone laughs]. It was very expensive. He said "I'll give you a discount." One Kashmiri was saying to the other, it was worth 9,000 rupees in Kashmiri! [everyone laughs]. "Why don't you come inside." So we went inside and were sitting there and I told them, "do you accept American Express card" [everyone laughs] "yes I do, but I will show you more things" ... then I asked him, "which part of Kashmir are you from?'' I said in English, and he said "Dal Gate" [laugh] Thubten: The poorest place! Hasan: And, and I said in Kashmiri "I am from Ne-Shat" [a place in Kashmir] [everyone laugh]. I said this in vulgar tongue, in Kashmiri, and he was shocked! This amusing story reverses the power hierarchy between Kashrniris and Ladakhis, by positioning Hasan as a tourist. Normally, Kashmiris look down upon Ladakhis. However, in this narrative, Hasan is mistaken for a tourist and called "Sir." The shopkeeper is overly polite, and

Becoming Other 95

Hasan flexes the power of his position by asking if the shopkeeper accepts American Express cards. The amusement builds as the shopkeeper tries to sell Hasan a tl~anglrafrom Ladakh. Hasan not only knows that it is fake, but he can also understand what the shopkeepers are saying to each other about the real value of the tllnngkn. The narrative concludes when Hasan casts off the position of tourist, and tells the shopkeeper that he too coines from Kashmic Hasan's family uscd to be traders, and accordingly tlicy had a house in Kashmil; where Hasan was born. It is necessary to emphasize the amusen~entthat the Ladakhi participants expressed upon hearing this stoly. The amusenlent seems to be hvofold: first they are out smarting thc I
Becoming Other 97

96 A. GILLESPIE

The Self-Narration act

Tourists are repeatedly called upon to narrate their travels. While abroad, when tourists meet other tourists, they exchange stories, and in so doing position each other. In cafes and bars across Leh one can hear the tourists exchange their tales. Back at home, tourists face a home audience that requests an account of the trip. Both the audience of tourists and the home audience extend to the tourist narrator various identities depending to the narrator as dictated by the narrative. In this social act the social positions are those of the tourist traveller and their audience. While Ladakhis often feature in these narratives, they are rarely participants in the self-narration act. This social act, then, is different to the sightseeing act, the photogi-aphing act and the serving act because this social act is just between tourists.

The Need to Narrate

Tourism is a form of self-making. Mead wrote that the modern novel resulted in a significant development of the modern self because it enabled its readers to be socialized into communities from other times and places. Tourism takes the self-making technology of the novel one step further: rather than exploring "novel" social positions, the tourist literally leaves his/her habitual social positions behind, and moves out into the world, taking up, and trying on new social positions. Travelers by crossing mountain passes become explorers, by traveling to remote villages become adventurous, and by having authentic encounters with Ladakhis partake in traditional culture. However, in order for these new identity positions to become fixed, they need to be supported by some persuasive stories (Adler, 1989). This is because these positions need to be sustained in the gaze of fellow tourists and the home audience. Through narratives, tourists' experiences are transformed into symbolic capital (Bourdieu, 1986). Through narratives tourists become people in the community who have had such and such an experience-for example, been up the highest road in the world or had tea with a Buddhist monk. In the act of narration tourists consummate their claim to a certain identity position, for every position claimed needs to be recognized. In order to lay claim to a privileged position, tourists need to differentiate themselves from other tourists. The symbolic capital generated through self-narration risks becoming debased if the target audience suspects that the narrative-content is commonplace. Safeguarding against this, in a preemptive gesture, tourists will often make a sideways remark

such as "we were the only white people there." This surprisingly common phrase distinguishes its narrator from the masses, and raises the value of the account.

The Audience

Tourists' tales are usually less exciting I'or the audience than for the narrator. Unfortunately language often fails to convey the excitement, authenticity or amusement of a given encountec Moreover, the audience gains less from these tales than the narrator. While the narrator claims privileged kno~vlcdge(of the story told) and usually tlirorrgli the story claims a privileged position (having had a given experience), the auclience is little rnore than a vehicle for tllc narrator to gain recognition. Unsurprisingly, there is resistance. Tourists' tales, from the staildpoint of tllc audience, can appear self-aggrandizing, inflated and pretentious. Tourist narrators, howcvcr, are aware of this, for they too are subjected to tourist's tales. Accordingly, narrators will orient to the orientation of their audience. Consider the way in which Levi-Str-aussorients to his readers: Travel and 11-avcllersare hvo things I loathe-and tell the story of m y expeditions. (1 961, p. 17)

yet here I am, all set to

This quotation is from the opening sentence in A World on the A'nne, a book in which LCvi-Strauss tells of his travels in Brazil. Levi-Strauss statcs that it has taken him 15 years to write the book because he lias "been hcld back by a sort of shame and disgust." To write a book filled wit11 "insipid details" and "incidents of no significance," he fears, xvould place his work alongside the "travel-books, expeditionary records and photographalbums" which clutter bookshops. In these remarks LCvi-Strauss is effectively apologizing for the tale he is about to tell.

Position Exchange

More than any of the social acts we have considered, the self-narration act involves position exchange. All tourists tell tales, and all tourists have heard the tales of fellow tourists. Indeed, many encounters between tourists are little more than the exchange of such narratives. In such exchanges, it is the exchange of position that interests us. Each takes a turn, first at basking in the glow of their own narrative, and second at raising an eyebrow when they hear their interlocutor's narrative.

.

98 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other

L6vi-Strauss' quotation illustrates, not only an attempt to differentiate self from other and an attempt to orient to the audience, it also demonstrates position exchange. Although LCvi-Strauss does indeed "loathe" travellers and their "trash-can" memories, he recognizes that he is, undeniably, in the social position of telling a traveler's tale. He has previously listened to the "trash-can" memories of other travellers, and now he must listen to his own. Previously he has been in the social position of the audience, now he is in the social position of the narrator. And what we see is that he is using his experience of one social position in order to regulate his behavior in the other-which is just what we ~vouldexpect on the basis of Mead's theory.

CONCLUSION

In the summer season, a veritable torrent of Ladakhi-tourist interaction flows across Ladakh. It is, of course, impossible to characterize each and every detail of these interactions. Some tourists are in Ladakh for research, others to study Buddhism, and still others for bicycling, rafting, or motor biking. It is inevitable that many diverse forms of interaction have been overlooked. I could add to the above account the trekking act, the eating act, the lodging act, the greeting act, the polite conversation act, and so on. However, I would argue, that the four social acts that I have presented do point us toward the main institutionalized patterns of interaction within the touring act. Few tourists pass through Ladakh without participating in the sightseeing act, the photography act, the serving act, o r the self-narration act. Each of these social acts, then, with its own peculiar social psychological logic, is being continually reenacted in Ladakh. Within the logic of each social act is a disjunction of perspectives, which causes ruptures for both tourists and Ladakhis. Tourists must get to grips with touring, inauthenticity, the reverse gaze, the poiitics of being served, and of positioning their own experiences in relation to the experiences of other tourists. Ladakhis, on the other hand, make sense of tourists' motivations for sightseeing and taking photographs, with tourists' feedback about their culture and their hygiene practices and with their economic inferiority. From our Meadian perspective, these ruptures are expected to stimulate construction and reconstruction in the semiotic domain. The touring act is not a Deweyan act in which individuals engage, in isolate, with problematic object. The touring act is a social act, and there is always more than one perspective involved. Indeed, the greatest creator of ruptures within the touring act is the perspective of the other. For the touring act to proceed, both parties need to orient to the orientation of the other.

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The interesting problematic is that there is minimal position exchange ~vithinthe touring act between tourists and Ladakhis. Of course both tourists and Ladakhis will have exchanged position within rudimentary social acts, such as givingtreceiving, buying/selling, and speaking/listening. Accordingly, we do not expect any break down of intersubjectivity within such elementary interactions. But when we deal with more specific social acts, such as the photographing act, the sightseeing act, and the sel-riing act, then we realize there is an absence of position exchange. Within these social acts neither has been in the social position of the other, yet, for these social acts to proceed, each must orient to the orientation of the other. Before proceeding to analyze exactly how both tourists and Ladakhis have managed to take each others' perspectives we need to first map out the pci-spcctives of both tourists and Ladakhis. That is we need to know, what perspectives are there to be takcn, and what perspcctivcs have actuaIIy hccn taken. We need to map out how both tourists and Ladakhis see themselves (the various "me" images) and each othcr (the various "thcy" imagcs). This mapping out is done in chapters 5 and 6, and it sets up chapters 7, 8, and 9 wllich attempt to analy7e exactly how each "me" has arisen by pcrspective taking within the touring act.

CHAPTER 5

LISTENING TO TOURISTS

It is IIOW time to listen to what is said within the touring act. In the previous chapter we observed the touring act, simply clescribing tourist-ladakhi encounters, from our position outside the touring act. Jn the prcserit chapter, a d the following chaptel; we eriter into the touring act, and tly to understand it, first from the perspective of totaists (this chaptel-) and then from the perspective of Ladakhis (chapter 6). Our way into the perspcctive of tourists and Ladakhis is through their discourse, through listening to what they say among themselves.' Our question is simply: What do tourists say among themselves about themselves and Ladakhis? What images - of "me" and "they" arise in this discourse? The discourse I am interested in is the discourse that nat~lrallyoccurs between tourists, in the p~esthouses,bars, and restaurants of Laclakh-or anywhere else that tourists talk. This discourse, although it is everywhei-e in Ladakh, is quite dimcult to collect and utilize in an analysis. There are practical and ethical constraints. Accordingly, I decided to engage tourists in group discussions, and in this manner to construct quasi-naturalistic discussions. The PI-esent chapter begins by describing hotv this discourse was constiucted, and then moves on to attempting to map out this discourse. The map is meant to convey, not only the main topics that tourists discuss, but also the debates, the uncertainties, and tourists' critical selfreflection. Beco?~fing Ofhey: A n m Socinl Dltevnction fa Self-Relection, 10 1-125 Copyright 0 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any forin reseived.

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Becoming Other

CONSTRUCTING A CORPUS OF TOURIST DISCOURSE

Collecting data is particularly difficult when one does not know what one is looking for. Normally data collection begins by defining a population, and then drawing a sample from that population. But what if one cannot define the population before hand? This is the problem we are confronted with when we try to gather together tourists' discourse on themselves and Ladakhis. Our interest here is not individual tourists (sampling tourists would be easy), but with discourses. We know from government records the population of tourists in Ladakh, but we do not know the population of discourses. We do not know the range of discussions and debates that arise between tourists about themselves and Ladakhis. We do not know how many topics these debates cover, and we do not know how many different points of view exist on each of these topics. In our case, we do not begin with the answers to these questions, rather we begin wanting to answer these questions. Corpus construction is a procedure used to collect data, usually discourse, when one does not know beforehand the population from which one is coilecting data (Bauer & Aarts, 2000). Corpus construction accepts that often "one cannot determine a priori what a representative corpus looks like" (Bauer & Aarts, 2000, p. 29). Corpus construction approaches the u~lknownpopulation and tries to build a corpus of data through an iterative process. The idea is that the researcher searches out different manirestations of the phenomena, and keeps doing so until "saturation" is reached. "Saturation is the stopping criterion: one searches for different representations only until the inclusion of new strata no longer adds anything new" (p. 34). Once the researcher is confident that the diversity of the phenomena has been exhausted, and that each new instance is familiar, then the researcher has a constructed the corpus. Given the initially amorphous nature of tourists' discourse, I decided to use the method of corpus construction in order to build up a data set of tourists' discourse. Accordingly, I sought out diverse groups of tourists, in relatively naturalistic settings, and talked to them about diverse topics. Each discussion was compared to previous discussions, and I continued to collect discussions until I ceased finding new topics and perspectives. In what follows I detail the construction and composition of the corpus of tourist discourse.

The Tourist Participants

The corpus comprises 25 group discussions, all in English, with an average of 3.2 tourists in each group (excluding the moderator). These

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are small groups which reflect the fact that tourists in Ladakh tend to travel in small groups-couples are particularly common. However, I did manage to find three natural groups with more than five members. Including age diversity in the corpus proved more difficult, because the bulk of tourists in Ladakh are behveen 20 ancl 40. I simply could not find any tourists younger than 15 or older than 65. This fact in itself is interesting, when one considers the impression this must make on Ladakhis. When I asked some Ladakhi colleagues about this, they told me they had never seen either an elderly tourist or a tourist child. Gathering discourse from tourists with diverse nationalities proved t-elatively easy, if onc confines tourist origin to the so-called "developed" ~vorld.In the corpus 13 nationalities are represented, with participants frotn die United Kingdom, Israel, United States, and Francc bcing most cotnmon. No tourists from Latin America, M i c a , or Asia are incluclcd in the corpus. While I did encounter Asian tourists in IAadakll,nlainly Indian, I decided not to include them because the preliminary discussions I had with them led me to bclieve that their perspective was distinct from that of the tom-ists froin the so-called developed world. Although tourists in the corpus have diverse nationalities, ages, and interests, I arn actually quite struck by the homogeneous nature or these individuals. The tourists visiting Ladakh are a self-selected group. They have been led to 1,adakh by similar repl-ese~~tations: I-cpt-csentatioas of tlie Himalaya as spiritual, traditional, exotic, ancl filled with aclventure. ivloreovel; a11 share an interest in going off the beaten track and in having an unusual holiday. With the risk of generalizing, but in tlie interests of cot~veyiilgsomething about this group, I ~ v o ~ be ~ l inclined d to describe them as well educated professionals, or university students, \vith middle class interests and ideas. While India may be cheap by Western standards, it is not cheap to fly to, and thus we can surmise that these tourists, while not necessarily wealthy, are certainly not poor.

I Discursive Context I

I 1

1

Tourists were approached in various restaurants, guesthouses, and bars in Leh. A natural group was defined as any group sitting togethec The procedure was for the moderator1 to enter the establishment, look for a g m p that fitted the interests of the corpus construction, and then to approach the group asking if they would participate in a discussion on "changes in Ladakh." I explained a bit about my own background, how I would use the data collected, and asked whether I could record the conversation on audiocassette. No tourist declined to participate ancl they seemed to welcome the distraction.

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In return for participation I offered to pay for the participants' dinner, dessert, beer, or coffee. This offer usually established an informal tone. Food and especially beer proved to be valuable aids in constructing discourse that closely reflected the type of discourse that normally transpires when tourists talk. As a matter of fact, tourists seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in Leh's many restaurants and bars -maybe lethargy induced the altitude makes restaurant seats seem particuIarly inviting. The discussions lasted from between 1% to 4 hours, and participants seemed to enjoy themselves. On several occasions, dinnertime conversations went on past 1 1 o'clock, when the electrical power in Leh was turned off, and continued in the dark. Because Leh is a small town, I often met participants subsequently. Sometimes we played pool together {the pool halls have generators, and thus are not in the dark after 11 o'clock), sometimes we stayed in the same guesthouses, and sometimes we went shopping for souvenirs together. On several instances I joined tourists that I had met through the discussions on outings and treks, and in a couple of cases I formed long-term friendships. Despite the "naturalistic" feel of these discussions there were moments when this would break down. Sometimes I was positioned as an expert on Ladakh, and questions were directed at me-which serves to illustrate the informal nature of the discussions. These questions were dealt with in one of two ways: either the question was deflected and returned 01; I would answer the question honestly (in an informal manner) and take account of my input when analyzing the data. The second technique is best employed when topics have been "saturated in prior discussions, In such cases, I found that contributing my own touristic opinions to the discussion contributed to the naturalistic context, making participants more free to express their own opinions without feeling they were being judged. However, the naturaiistic context was often punctured, and in all but two discussions there were times when my status as a researcher became salient. Often this manifested in allusions to my analysis (e.g., "did we pass?") or the cassette recorder (e.g., "take that off the record!-(laugh)"). The main problem with my presence is that as a researcher I was accorded a position of esteem. Within tourists' jostle for recognition, for having authentic experiences, and experiencing the "real" Ladakh, my experience and knowledge laid claim to a privileged position. On those occasions when participants learned that I had been to Ladakh several times, or in winter, or that I could speak some basic Ladakhi, or had Ladakhi colleagues in this o r that shop, then I suspect that my participants' object state as tourists became salient. Reflecting upon what the influence of this may have been, I suspect that my presence heightened tourists awareness of being tourists, perhaps making them defensive, and feeling the need to

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rationalize their more "superficial" experience of Ladakh. Howevel; being aware of this potential effect, I did try to avoid positioning myself as the all-knowing insider, and often played na'ive.

Topics Covered

In order to stimulate relevant conversation, a topic2 stimulation guicle was used. In accordance with the tenets of corpus construction, the topic guide was not fixed at any point duri~lgtlle research, but was constantly evolving. Nor was tlic topic guide strictly adhered to. In the search for new arid relevant topics, the discussions were allowed to wander, And when new and relevant topics were found, they were adcled to lhe topic stimulation guide. Through this iterative process the topic guide emerged, not so much as a guide of tourist conversation, but as a rcllection of the discussions and debates that tourists, in Ladakh, norr~ially l~averegarding tourist-Ladakhi encounters. The discussions would normally start with some sort of background fixing. Participants werc asked about their reasons for traveling, and what tliey had done so far and sometillles similar questions were asked of me. Given that the habitual interaction between tourists is based on the exchange of ~vell-rehearsedtravel stories, beginning in this way was quite naturalistic, a~lilwould normally leacl on to other more lrlcvant issues. A distinction must be made between my interests in these cliscussions-the topics I wanted to explore-and the questions I asked. The topics I wanted to cover were: Tourists perspectives on Ladakh and Ladakl~isand tourists perspectives on tourists. And withitl these topics I was particularly interested in perspective taking. Howevet; one cannot simply approach ones' target group and ask them abstract theoretical questions. One must approach ones problematic indirectly. Accordingly, I found myself talking to tourists about photography, souvenir shopping, interactions with Ladakhis, memorable experiences, best photographs, biggest surprises, changes in Ladakh, Ladakhis attitude toward tourists, the impact of tourism. However, my interests were usually best served by asking indirect and provocative questions, such as: Should they build roads to remote villages? What will you tell your grandchildren about this trip? And, would you like to have been born in a Ladakhi village? The topics on the discussion stimulation guide were not covered in every case, and certainly not in any particular order. The main function of these topics and questions was to stimulate discussion. The tourists I encountered were so keen to talk about tourism in Ladakh that they rarely wandered off topic. Accordingly, I was often able to simply sit back, and let the conversation proceed under its own momentum. Howevel; when

106 A. GILLESPIE

tourists did wander off topic, or when the conversation flagged, then I would open up a new topic with a new question. During the course of the conversations I freely probed and engaged with the participants. The criterion employed for ending corpus construction was the somewhat vague criterion of "saturation." This criterion is vague, unless one specifies what becomes saturated. What I experienced was a saturation of basic content, that is, the last few discussions turned u p few new stories or opinions. These naturalistic group discussions were conducted in 2001 and 2002, and in subsequent visits to Ladakh and group discussions with tourists in 2003 and 2005, I heard nothing to make me question this saturation. Indeed, I was stiuck by just how similar the discourse I encountered was.

MAPPING UNIVERSES OF DISCOURSE

The tourist corpus comprises 52 hours of quasi-natural discussion and debate, containing a multiple and often conflicting perspectives on a range of topics. What criteria do we use to impose some order on the sheer volume of data? How can it be made manageable, for subsequent analysis, without doing too much violence to it? We need a map of these discussions in order to make tourist discourse navigable. Onc way to provide a map would be to categorize contributors in terms of their opinions or attitudes. However, such a map would do considerable violence to the dialogicality of the discourse. The debates within this discourse are not simply between tourists-they are often within individual tourists. As will become evident, the same tourist often espouses contradictory attitudes. Categorizing tourists in terms of their attitudes, would obfuscate these internal debates. Our interest is not in the percentage of tourists who believe this o r that, but in the debates that characterize tourist discourse-whether between tourists or within the utterances of one tourist. These debates are our concern because in these debates we see the reconstructive phase of the touring act as described by Dewey and Mead. It is in these debates that we find what is ruptured within the touring act. If all were clear, undilemmatic and utterly consistent for the members of a society, there would be nothing for them to argue about, and thereby nothing about which to deliberate. (Billig, 199 I , pp. 7 1-72)

One motivation for people talk to each other, and debate, is because they are unsure of their attitudes and opinions. It is this uncertainty that we want to map out, for this uncertainty is the domain of self-reflective

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consciousness. Accordingly, our analysis must be directed not toward what is believed, but to the ruptured or uncertain. Our map must deal with the messiness of the reconstruction phase, and capture the ways in which ruptured things, from the perspective of the actol; teeter between subjectivity and objectivity. In order to constiuct the map, the 52 hours of discourse were converted into mp3 format, and analyzed in audio using the software package Atlas/ti (Muhr, 199'7).The data was coded initially in terms of what tourists said about themselves and about Ladakhis. 'Then within each of these domains of discourse, distinctions were found. Special attention was placed upon identifying the points of debate, and the clash of differing perspectives-ruhethcr between groups, behveen individuals, or within a single indiviclual's utterances. The following sections present a suiritna~-y oC this analysis.

TOURISTS' SEARCH FOR AUTHENTIC LADAKHIS

Most tourists visit Laclakh in 01-cter to experience traditional communities remote fi-om so-called rnoclemity. Thus, it is unsurprising that the main conccrn for tourists is to evaluate whether Ladakh, 01- a particular Ladakhi, is traditional or moclcrn. Tourists' debate, on this topic, focuses upon how materialist, spiritual, peaceful, authentic, remote and/or content Ladakhis are. Eviclent across all thcsc debates is an opposition behveen the traditional (authentic) Ladakhi and the rnodcrn (corrupted) Ladakhi. Within these debates, the role of tourists is usually confined to luring Ladakhis away from their "natural" state, and toward modernity. By bringing money into Ladakh, tourism is seen to foster greed and materialism.

Are They Materialist?

Tourists commonly presume that traditional Ladakhis are not concerned with material possessions. Ladakhis are described as having "eve~ythingthey need," living a "simple life," being "content" and "selfsufficient." Yet at other times, this widely accepted image is problematized by the image of a Ladakhi who is desirous of all things modern. Thus it becomes a topic for debate. In the following exchange, a group of tourists are eating their dinner in a Nepalese-owned restaurant, and they are wondering why so many of the restaurants in Lell are owned and run by Nepalese people:

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David: Ray: Louise: Ray: Louise: Ray: Louise: Ray:

Here all the [Nepalese-owned] restaurants are quite new, aren't they? [Orienting to AG] But the Ladakhis, they don't learn from them, they don't say "I don't have money, so I could do this as well?" But, do they actually want money? Of course they want money But we just said that they are happy being farmers But at the end of the day, like every culture that has been exposed to money, slowly, slowly becameMaterialistic Yeah, materialistic, corrupted

In this exchange it is assumed that Ladakhis do not have money, and are not learning. Debate arises between the earlier assertion that Ladakhis "are happy being farmers" and the idea that they are becoming "materialistic" and "corrrrpted." The domain that opens up for discussion is between the two poles of a traditional-modern dimension. This excerpt conveys the widespread assumption that Jhdakhis, "like every culture that has been exposed to money," are moving from the "happy" traditional pole to the "corrupted" modern pole. The souire of this corruption is not so much the apple of knowledge but money, and money is associated with tourism. Sitting in the Nepalese restaurant, paying inflated prices for burgers and burritos, these tourists are impIicitly implicating themselves in this process of "corruption."

Are They Spiritual?

The cover of the Lonely Planet guide Indian Himalaya (Mayhew, Plunkett, Coxall, Saxton, & Greenway, 2000) describes the Himalaya as "the abode of the gods," and spirituality is certainly a prominent expectation among tourists. Ladakh is overtly advertised as being Buddhist, and often referred to as "Little Tibet." Carrying fonvard this representation one English university student said, "the West is far more focused on the material things, far more, here everything is more about spirituaI things." In such utterances, the traditional-modern dimension opposes a materialist West to a spiritual Ladakh. One common debate among tourists is the extent to which a given Ladakhi, or indeed Ladakhis in general, are "still" spiritual. This relates to the above debate about Ladakhis becoming "corrupted." Tourists want to know the extent to which the younger generation are engaged in the traditional religious practices, whether these practices are dying out, or whether they are being perpetuated only for the sake of tourism. Such debate suggests a rupture between the tourists'

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expectation that Ladakh is a spiritual place and the problematic perception of many young Ladakhis who carry no overt symbols of their spirituality. In trying to patch up this rupture, most tourists appeal to the changes being introduced by tourists, and modernization. However, some tourists dismiss the expectation that Ladakh should be, or ever was, more spiritual than the Mkst. Consider the following excerpt, from another university student-one who had done a course on the sociology of religion: I have been put off that whole spiritnal thing at uni. [university], most of our lectures were like "don't ever get it into your head that these people are morc spiritual than anyonc clsc"

This topic here the is the degree of spirituality in 1,adakh. This tourist takes a I-elativist attitude. Hc rejccts using this evaluative dimension to apply to whole populations, and makes the q~iestionredundant by positioning evelyone as equally spiritual. Thus while some tourists are engaged in debating the degree of Ladakh's spirituality, there is also some i-oom to debate the very existence of this evaluative dimension.

Are They Peaceful?

Related to the idea of I,adakh as spil-itual is the idea that Ladakhis are "peaceful," "nonviolent" and "vegetarian." Ladakh, as mentioned, is closely linked within tourist discourse to Tibet. Tourists often talk about the Dalai Lama, and the Tibctans' remarkably pcacclril struggle against the Chinese occr~pationof Tibet. Tourists expect to witness something of this spiritual pacifism while in Ladakh, and when Ladakh does not meet this expectation, a discursive space for elaboration and 1-econstruction opens up. The importance of this expectation to tourists has given rise to a particular genre of scandalous stories among disappointed tourists. The follo~vingquotation is fsom an A~~stralian ~vhohad spent a month living and working in a Ladakhi farmhouse: W1at amazed me, ine~ne-Ee[Ladakhi for grandfather] was such a devout man, like he would spend ages spinning his prayer wheel, saying his prayers, being so peaceful and placid, giving the kids lollies, but as soon as a goat ran into the house, he turned, he "warghhh, ahhrghh" and he would throlv sticks at it as hard as he could aiming specifically at the animal rather than scaring it.

Here the topic concerns a typical traditional old Ladakhi man who seems to conform to the tourist's idealized representation of a spiritual

1 10 A. GILLESPIE

Ladakhi Buddhist, yet when a goat comes into the house he "turns," becomes aggressive, and attacks the goat with sticks. This story is worth telling because the expectation among tourists is that traditional, and especially "devout" Ladakhis, are peaceful. At a later point in the discussion, the tourist suggested that this man's behavior may have been due to the changes wrought by modernization, thus reaff~rmingthe more comfortable expectation that Ladakhis are "naturally" peaceful, and that it is modernity, propagated by tourism, which is "corrupting"' them. Again we see how ruptured expectations cause debate along a traditional-modern dimension, with tourists explaining away the lack of tradition in terms of the encroachment of the modern.

Are They Being Authentic?

Tourists are very concerned to classify Ladakhis as either traditional (i.e., preserving their culture) or desirous of being modern (i.e., imitating tourists and covetous of tourist money). Such a distinction is useful for tourists. They want to encounter the former and avoid the latter. They have invested time and money to travel to Ladakh in part to encounter traditional, not modern, people. Accordingly, tourists tend to privilege traditional Ladakhis, while generally scorning those who are modern. In the following excerpt, I am asking an Australian why he photographs the traditional but not the modern Ladakhis. Initially he says that he does so because they are "more different": AG: Is the only reason difference? Peter: Maybe I see more integrity in an old person wearing old clothes AG: More integrity? Peter: [Cough & pause] I think when I see young Ladakhis in Western clothes who are imitating Western people, I'm not sure if they know what they are at, how tiue to themselves, their culture and their family they are being, whereas say an old man who has been like that all his life and is still maintaining his ways has more integrity

Questioning tourists about why they photograph traditional-looking Ladakhis invariably causes some discomfort. Peter in responding to this question, must justify his behavior. He does so by differentiating Ladakhis according to the degree of maintenance of traditional ways of life, and emphasis is placed on "integrity" versus a Western modernity estranged from the fortifying Iocal culture. Peter is saying that he wants to photo-

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graph an "old man who has been like that all his life" and who thus has integrity." This is, after all, one of the expectations that led Peter to travel to Ladakl~. One can, perhaps, sense uncertainty in Peters utterance, as if he is aware of an alternative point of view. And indeed there is. I11 contrast to this widely espoused perspective, tourists often voice a more reflcctive stance. In the following exchange, for example, a Swiss woman replies with irony to her husband who, like Petel; is saddened by the changes in Ladakh: 'L.

Karl: It is for me a bit sad [the loss of cultul-el Frieda: I like the traditional clothes, and here I have the feeling that it is getting less, the young people have clothes like mc, but I am a tourist! I say, "Oooh! No good!" Frieda questions her right to See1 that Ladakhis should preserve their c~rlttlrc,and particularly that she is entitled to tell Ladakhis that a failui-e to do so is, "no good!" Notice, liowe-vcr, that Frieda does not question whether Ladakhis are loosing thcir culture-tliis is assumed. She affirms that Ladakhis are moving from being traditional to being modem, but atterrlpts to deny the evaluative aspect of this dimension. Her point is that it is not her right, or the right of any tourist, to judge this loss of tradition and cultui-e. There was only one tourist, a middle aged Australian, and seasoned backpacker, who actually disnlissed the idea that Ladakhis are loosing their culture. He argued that the idea of Ladakhis losing their cultul-e is "pretty silly" because "ct~ltiu-esaren't frozen in time" and therefore not something that can be lost. Rathel; they can only ever be subject to change.

Goat Herder or Lizardman?

The debates about materialism, spirituality, pacifism, and authenticity-all can be characterized as operating upon an evaluative dimension between traditional and modern. They belong together in the sense that tourists expect a traditional Ladakhi to be nonmaterialist, spiritual, peaceful, and authentic. The problem is that this expectation is often ruptured by tourists' encountering modern Ladakhis who are seen to be materialist, unspiritual, or even violent and/or lacking in authenticity. Thus we can see the tradition-modern discourse in terms of tourists' goals and interests in Ladakh. Tourists have traveled to Ladakh expecting to find tradition and culture, and accordingly, they have a

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knowledge that enables them to organize this project by distinguishing traditional Ladakhis from modern Ladakhis. Let us look beneath the surface of this discourse, to the iconic cores that sustain it. I am referring here to what Moscovici (1984) has called objectification. That is, how is this discourse made concrete? What images make the abstract ideas of "tradition" and "modern" concrete and irnaginable? I am referring here not necessarily to the most commonly invoked images, but rather to those images that seem to have the most meaning within the representational field. I wish to suggest that the traditionalmodern evaluative dimension is objectified, usually in an implicit way, in an opposition between the image of a "goat herder" and that of a "lizardman." These are the root images through which tourists actually experience Ladakhis. I use the image of the goat herder to summarize a complex of images that tourists use to portray o r objectifjr traditional life. The image of Ladakhis tending animals is surprisingly common. It appears repeatedly in postcards of Ladakh and in the guidebooks. This bucolic image need not involve animals-for example, several tourists invoked the camaraderie of "the women working in the fields." But in all instances a sense of natural order is conveyed: daily routines; of timelessness; community involvement; and hard but honest hearty work. The defining feature of this image, then, is a feeling of stability, sustainability, and aligned with this, a lack of violence o r intrusion. The life thus objectified has a stable and timeless quality. If it could be unsullied by external influence, one has the feeling that this pattern of life would continue unchanging for the rest of time. The image is peaceful. Accordingly, the juxtaposition with the intrusion of modernity is seen to be all the more dramatic. The following comment was made by an Israeli, while narrating his road-trip up to Ladakh: When we were in Kelong, there were goats, people moving with the goats, and you see the simple people who live here for ten thousand years, or maybe, I don't know for Ladakh, then comes a truck, and "beep beep beep bee," and it doesn't make sense, it's a conflict, you see the truck and the simple man with his goats, it doesn't go together, it's bad.

The rustic goat herder is portrayed as being under siege by an intrusive, noisy, and polluting modernity. In the natural order the goat herder does not even lead the goats. Instead, the goat herder is simply "moving with the goats." They form a harmonious unit, which has been stable for "ten thousand years." This balance is disturbed by modernity, as accentuated by the image and sound of the truck: "beep beep beep bee." This intrusion is portrayed as an unnatural violation-"it doesn't go together, it's bad."

Becoming Other 1 13 The image, at the opposite pole of the tradition-modern discourse, which objectifies the modern Ladakhi, is that of the lizardman. The image pertains to young Ladakhis who wear bright colored skintight tshirts and jet-black wrap-around sunglasses, thus looking like a lizard. Although I only h e a d a handful of tourists use the term lizardinan, all tourists recognize to what the term refers. It refers to usually young and male Ladakhis who are seen to pester tourists in various ways. These are Ladakhis who do not wear traditional dress and who arc engaged in the tourist business-often in suspect ways. Alternative ternls that I heard tourists use incli~de "sharks," "touts," "stammers," "cl~ancers," and "harvkers." 'Taken togethel; this image-complex evokes feclings of rxloneycrazed Ladakhis who are out of kilter with their o~7nculture. These Ladakhis are aberrations produced by tourism and globalization. The image of the "lizardman" conclcnscs a whole theo~yof the psychology of Ladakhis. Tourists travel to Ladakh with the expectation of finding nonmaterialist spiritual Buddhists. Howevel; in Lell they are confionted by persisterit souvenir sellers and determined gxiesthouse owners-who certainly do not appear to be motivated by nonmaterialist interests. Such Ladakhis challenge tourists' expcctations. The image of the "lizai-dman" is not merely a tool Tor categorizing these "rvayvat-cl" Ladakllis, it also explains what has happened to them. Money and modern commodities, both introduced by tourists, have opened the eycs of innocent 1,adakhis to the many temptations of modernity, provoking them to stray from their own culture. These "lizardmen" are described as idealizing thc West and striving for all that is modern, while rejecting their O\VII culture. I11 01-cler to feed this desire for modern commodities, the trope goes, these lizarclmen have becomc manipulative and devious-as one tourist put it, "likc a fox.?' The traditional-modern evaluative dimension, objectified in the opposition between the images of the goat herder and the lizardman, is a powerful explanatoiy device for tourists. By using it, tourists can interpret their experience of Ladakhis accorcling to their own interests. Any Ladakhi who is not as traditional as expected can be explained away as being a modern Ladakhi. As such, this evaluative dimension is almost impervious to experiential refutation. Nevertheless, the ditnension does receive critique from tourists. Tourists suspect that the tradition-modern discourse romanticises Ladakh.

SHOULD LADAKHIS ENGAGE I N DEVELOPMENT?

Tourists worly about whether it is simply the case that evelything traditional in Ladakll is good and everything modern is bad. They critically

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reflect that, while they may personally value the traditional aspects of Ladakh, Ladakhis may benefit from, and wish for modern conveniences. When tourists begin to question, in this way, they are invoking a new evaluative dimension, which I will call the developed-undeveloped dimension. In the developed-undeveloped dimension, the developed pole is privileged over the undeveloped, which creates a conflict with the traditionalmodern dimension. According to the developed-undeveloped dimension, it is argued that undeveloped (traditional) societies are not perfect and that there are important improvements that can be achieved by development (becoming modern). At the developed pole stand education, biomedicine, and hospitals while the undeveloped pole represents poverty, ignorance, famine, and illness. This universe of discourse privileges the project of modernization, and thus reverses the evaluation contained in the traditional-modern discourse. Within this developed-undeveloped discourse, development, far from being a source of moral corruption, offers salvation. Thus, while tourists may scorn Ladakhis for becoming modern, there is also an accepted argument which recognizes the possible h i t s of development and Ladakhis right to have development, if they want it. How Ideal is Traditional Life?

The discourse of developed-undeveloped is usually invoked as a means of stalling unquestioning romanticism of Ladakh, which the traditionmodern discourse tends toward. In the following excerpt, we can see these bvo discourses clash. The six participants are from diverse countries, and have just finished a trck together. The topic is development, and previously I had asked the group whether they would be happy to exchange their lives for that of a Ladakhi villager. Linda, and another woman Hazel, indicated that they would not, and then the conversation began to digress. In an attempt to get the conversation back on track, and include the rest of the group, I rephrase my question: AG: But none of you would exchange your life for a [Ladakhi] villager? Jason: I'm not sure. 1don't think I would be happy in any lifestyle Brian: I would be happy to live in a world untouched by the industrial revolution. It's a more honest way of life Linda: So am I dishonest in my job then, my job is not money oriented at all, I work in the NHS [the UK's National Health Seivice]

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Brian: I just think its better if you grow food yourself and eat it rather than do sornetlling unrelated, and it all becomes very artificial, pushing bits of paper to make things fit together Jason: I agree, I think a world without indiistrializatio~lwould be much bette~;much bettel; but medical care makes a big difference, and the security, I mean I would not want to go back to a lifestylewhere one bad winter and half the village starves, but its a much better lifestyle than where the whole village working in factories Robert: Which is lull by a single rich person Linda: In the villages I had people stop me for dirigs ... the villages want bctter medical care, they rcally do, so all Western things are not bad Linda is an English doctor-. She defends the benefits of moclcrn medicine against Brian who a r p c s that modern lifestyles are "artificial." While Briar] is criticizing alienation in the Wcst, Linda is making the case that "all Western things are not bad" and shc gives the examplc of medical care. jason agrees with both Linda and Brian. He says that "a world without industrialization would be much better" but adds, that "medical care makes a big diEcrence." Brian is using the tradition-modern evaluative dimension, while Linda is using rhe developed-undeveloped dimension. Hence, they pl-oduce different evaluations. Most tourists I spoke to resembled Jason in this exchange, using both evaluative ditncnsions side-byside, despite the apparent contradictions. 14711ile the tradition-modern dimension has strong emotional appeal to tourists, it is rarely expressed without either tlie speaker acknowleclgitlg their reservations, or others raising challenges. *rourists are quite critical of this dimension, like Linda, using the developed-unde~elopeddimension in order to criticize idealizations of traditional Ladakhi life. As one tourist, speaking on behalf of the group, summarized: "it's easy to romanticise." This dialogical tension between enjoying a romantic perspective on Ladakh and a reflective concern to avoid na'ive romanticization stimulates much discussion in the bars and restaurants of Ladakh.

To Preserve or Not to Preserve?

The debate between the developed-undeveloped and traditional-modern evaluative dimensions repeatedly recurs in tourist discourse because it lies at the heart of a question that most tourists ask themselves when in Ladakh, namely, what should Ladakhis do? Where should their future

Becoming Other 1 17

path of action lead? More specifically, should they close themselves off from modernity, and hide themselves in the Himalaya like a modern-day Shangri-La or should they pursue modernity? Should they follow the lead of Bhutan, and enforce cultural traditions, or should Ladakhis be allowed to do as they wish--even if that means abandoning their cultural traditions? All tourists say, with little hesitation, that Ladakhis "should preserve their culture." However, exactly what this means is contentious. Does this imply that Ladakhis should not have television, or access to education or biomedicine? Tourists feel that to deny Ladakhis the benefits of elecrricity, running water, a cash economy and health care which tourists themselves enjoy would be perverse. It would turn Ladakh into a museum or zoo. The question that troubles tourists is: Who is to say that Ladakhis do not have a right to the benefits of development? This debate sometimes arises within the perspective oEa single individual, as in the following, "I feel both ways, 1 would love them to be a museum, but I feel bad about it (pause) I can't make that decision for people." In this utterance we see the dialogical coexistence of both evaluative dimensions. On the one hand, the tourist desires that Ladakh wiIl remain traditional (and not become modern), while on the other hand, he wishes them to make their own choices. It is implied that this will lead to development. All of the tourists who I spoke to espoused democratic principles on this issue, declaring that it is up to the Ladakhis to decide about their own future. Yet believing that Ladakhis will choose development, puts tourists in a bind, for the lament the loss of Ladalh's culture.

An Awkward Discourse

Research on postcolonialism has tended to focus only upon the colonised. But postcoloniaIism has implications for the people of the colonizing nations too. Tourists in Ladakh, for example, are cautious about voicing any colonial attitudes, or presenting themselves as superior to Ladakhis. In the presence of me and my tape recorder, tourists certainly intended to appear postcolonial, post-Orientalist, and antiracist. In one discussion, about development, I mentioned that Ladakhis often refer to themselves as "backward." An Australian responded: "I think we are more backward, we have lost touch with living, like, we could not sustain ourselves [without technology]." He then proceeded to describe how the aborigines managed to survive in the desert, in a way which "we," without the help of technology, could not. Tourists feel discomfort when using the developed-undeveloped discourse. One of the problems, for tourists, with this dimension is that it

does not differentiate between Ladakhis (as the tradition-modern dimension does), but it differentiates tourists from Ladakhis. The positions within this discourse are relatively fixed: Ladakh is undeveloped, ~vhile tourists come from developed countries. Thus the problem for tourists rvho invoke this discourse is that they risk positioning themselves as outdated racists or colonialists. Given the resonances of the developed-undeveloped discourse, it is not surprising that whenever tourists do invoke this discoursc, they do not load it with thc same sense of moral failure that is evident in the traditionmodern discourse. While lizardmen are seen as morally corrupt, as is the modernity that poisoned them, being undeveloped ncvcr carries this moral weight. To be undeveloped is merely u~lfortunatc.Becoming modern indicales a subinissinn to temptation, while hcing undeveloped simply means a lack of access to various resources. Tbus while tourists may concede that the West has more development, more wealth and ~~~~~~astr~icture,they will frmly insist that this does not imply superiority.

TRAVELERS AND TOURIST DUPES

It took me 2 years of research to realize that most tourists in Ladakh are quite similar to me. Initially, I sought out the prototypical tourist-one who would be na'i\le and unrcflcctive. Hotvevel; far fiorn conl-orming to this paradigm, most tourists I met expressed quite reasonable resei-vations about tourism and their own role within it. Nonetheless, they told me about other tourists who were indeed naive, and so, oncc again, I strolled the streets of Leh seeking out these "ubiquitous" tourist dupes. Only after speaking to a l~uildl-edtourists or so, none of whom could be described as "naike" and almost all of whom reiterated these tales of the naive, did I come to realize that no such bciilg exists. Rathel; this phantasm is always in the position of other-never self. This phantasm is propagated in the mass media and in the literature on tourism. It facilitates a self-satisfied smugness, positioning self in a positive manner, not as a tourist, but as a traveler. To characterize tourists as people who thrust their cameras into Ladakhis' faces, buy fake souvenirs and make unreasonable demands of their Ladakhi hosts, while remaining ignorant of local culture and custotn is a comforting analysis, as it ensures that self is far from being one of those atvf~~l tourists. In hindsight it is not surprising that I was unable to find any tourist dupes. Tourists are not a breed apart. They are ordina~ypeople who have gone on holiday. Indeed, they share much with the average social science researcher. They tend to be relatively highly educated, middle class people with an interest in experienciag the variety of global cultures. Before

1 1 8 A. GILLESPIE

departing, they may well have discussed -with empathy-the living conditions in the developing world, and will, no doubt, have taken a principied stance on issues of child labor and globalization. They may have lamented the adverse impacts of tourism upon traditional cultures and the environment. To go on holiday does not deprive us of our critical faculties (Franklin & Crang, 2001; MacCannell, 2001). Yet the representation of the camera touting tourist dupe is widespread. The image of the tourist dupe is part of a traveler-tourist evaluative discourse. At the denigrated end of this dimension we find the tourist, or more precisely, the tourist dupe. The image of tourist dupe is objectified in two main ways. On the one hand, there is the wealthy package tourist, who lives behind a prosthetic filter-the camera. On the other hand, there is the young boisterous hashish-smoking and partying tourist who is in India only because it is cheap. Both types are described as insensitive to Ladakh, as wearing offensive dress, "skimpy tops" and "shorts" which are "totally inappropriate." One of the main features of the tourist dupe is his or her remove from Ladakh: objectified by either the camera or the haze of hashish smoke that comcs between the tourist dupe and the "real" Ladakh. The traveler, however, is an insider to Ladakhi life and customs and lives as closely as possible to the Ladakhi ~vaysof life. The traveler is often a long-stay tourist who makes a concerted effort to understand Ladakhi culture and above all, is respectful of Ladakhis. We have aIready seen how some tourists take relativist stances regarding the spirituality or materialism of Ladakhis, and how they wish to avoid romanticizing Ladakh. One possible reason for this is that travelers do not wish to appear duped by an illusion, and thus they are tripping over themselves to be more critical and more reflective than any other tourist. At the extreme, this leads to the perspective of the posttraveler. The posttraveler, as we will see, embraces being a tourist with the addition of self-mockery.

Getting off the Beaten Track? Getting off the beaten track is a well established ideal for the majority of tourists in Ladakh. Consider the two most popular guidebooks that cover Ladakh, printed by the Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide. The striking commonality between these is that they both address "travelers"-not tourists. For example, the Lonely Planet guide Indian Himalaya describes itseIf, on the back cover, as "an essential companion for any traveler." To say that it is an essential guidebook for every "tourist," would be a marketing blunder. Indeed, the choice of words is quite precise. Travelers do not want to think that every foreigner they

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meet in Ladakh will be clasping a copy of Indian Hinaalayn. Accordingly, the guide is not for "eve~y"travelel; rather it is for "any" traveler, who, we might add, is bold enough to travel to Ladakh. Moreo\rel; such a bold traveler would not use a guidebook-they would have a ompa pan ion." The representation of the tralrelel-,as one who gcts off the beaten track, within the I ? ~ d i Hilnal~ya ~n guidebook. Ladakh is described is perpet~~ated as "one of India's most remote regions" and within 1,adakh choice locations are advertised as being "least visited" and "isolated" (Mayhew et al., 2000, p. 201). On the other hand, there is little doubt about the guidebook's view of Hemis gon~pa:"Now it is one of tlic most accessible (45krn fi-om Leh), famous and, thel-eCot.e, most popular and touristy gon1pas around." Accessibility has exposed Hemis to tourists, and thus it has become "touristy." Hemis, it seems, is not a p l a ~ efor travelers. When the Lonely l'lanet guide Ivdian Hz?rzaInycr uses the term tourists, it principally refers to the readers of other guidebooks. Yet other guidebooks, like Tile Rozcglt Gzlide to India do the same. So what guidebooks arc the tourist dupes using? Wllicl~guidebooks promise to show their readcrs "the beaten track?" Indeed, where is "the beaten track?" If thc most popular guidebooks (i.e., the Lonely Planet and the Rough Guidc) pt-omise to take their readers "off the beaten track" it follows that this IS "the beaten track." We are dealing with paradox that runs througt~outbackpacker tourism: thc tourist is always somconc else. Thc paradox is particularly evident when one looks at the editorial to Indian Himalaya, because it tries to reconcile the spectacular popularity of the Lonely Planet series with their "traveler" audience. The editorial begills with a stoiy about Tony and Mauleel1 M'l~eelel;who traveled overin 1972. Given that "useful information land from Europe to A~~stralia about the overland trail did not exist" Tony and Maureen decided to write the first Lonely Planet guidebook. Since then, "Lonely Planet has become the la1-gest indepel~denttravel publisher in the ~vorlc1"-with over 600 titles in English and covering evely corller of the planet. Obviously much has changed, but the editorial writes, "some things haven't changed. The main aim is still to help make it possible for adventurous travelers to get out there." Tourists, just like Lonely Planet Publications Pty. Ltd, want to be positioned as adventurous travelers. They too want to keep their distance from tourists, and all things "touristy." Collsider the following excerpt in lvhich an Israeli man is ttying to position himself as a traveler: There are tivo sorts of foreigners who Come here, there is people who come here just for holidays, and here it's a'wry ~1-p place, they can spend one month, go back to their country and say "I was in Ladakh and it was very beautif111 and I had a good time," but for me its not the same, I came to

120 A. GILLESPIE

India with not much money, a lot of time I buy vegetables in the market, I don't go to the restaurants, so for me I try to know the place and the people.

I met this Israeli man and his companions in Amdo Foods, a Tibetan restaurant in Leh. He was eating stir-fried noodles and drinking CocaCola. In this excerpt there is a clear opposition between tourists who tour Ladakh "ust for holidays" and those who, like him, "try to know the place and the people." By claiming not to have much money, and to buy vegetables in the market, this Israeli man is asserting that his experience is of the real Ladakh and the real Ladakhis. Tourists who come "just for holidays" do not gain the depth of experience of a traveler who has sought to understand the place and its people.

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12 1

imagination concerning the impact of tourism on Ladakl~is objectified in this encounter. There is a degree of natural justice in the narrative, for the tourist photographer does not get a genuine photograph, she only gets "a fake smile." The inauthenticity of tourists' experiences is a recurring motif for the tourist dupe (see Taylor, 2001). Tourist dupes only ever have touristic experiences, they do not experience "the real Ladakh." In the above excerpt one can clearly see Tony and Travis scorning both the intrusiveness of the tourist photographer and the inauthentic outcome. It is implied that neither Tony nor Travis would engage in such a practice. Tony and Travis are in no way unusual. Not one tourist who I spokc to in Ladakh maintained that the taking photographs of Ladakhis was uaproblematic. In fact, tourists expend far more energy deriding photography than defending it. Yet, this derision is precarious, for most tourists do in fact take photographs of Ladakhi peoplc.

Photography and the Fake Smile The tourist dupe stays close to the beaten path, travels in comfort and is generally imagined to be far removed from Ladakh itself. These tourists are described as living in a "tourist bubble." They move from tourist hotel, to tourist restaurant, to tourist souvenir shop, and, it is said, never see "the real Ladakh." In many ways the image of the tourist photographer objectifies this representation of the tourist dupe. Taking a photograph, especially of Ladakhi people, is seen to be shallow, artificial, and objectifying. The following excerpt, from a discussion I had with two backpackers, illustrates this iconic core: Travis: One of the worst and most degrading things that I saw, the other day, was an old guy, and some tourists said "can you pose for a photo for us?" and he was like "yeah, I'm having a break why not" and so the girl like went up and said "can you hold your prayer wheel like this, and hold your mala [prayer beads] up," she basically made him pose, and he sort of put a fake smile on, and she took the photo, and then he relaxed again Tony: That is so pointless Travis: I just felt bad for him Travis narrates "some tourist" as getting an elderly Ladakhi man to "pose" so that she could take a photograph. The photographer is portrayed as taking something, a picture, and giving only inconvenience and disrespect in return. The tourist is intervening in Ladakh and disturbing the natural order. The elderly Ladakhi man is relaxing, and the tourist asks him to adopt an inconvenient and unfamiliar pose. Much of tourists'

The Posttraveler Tourist

The lengths to which tourists, or rather travelers, will go in order to establish thcir position as travelers-to claim "me-as-traveler3'-has itself become a topic of discussion among some tourists. Even while jostling for the position of traveler, tourists reflect upon this activity and undermine it. Consider the following exchange I had with a particularly reflective group. Tourists claiming to be travelers are the topic of conversation: Bob: I remember reading in, you know, "The Beach," you know the book, and when he said "where have you been? Europe is not included," and that just, that is just typical Pierre: I don't like this kind of reaction AG: Typical of what? Bob: Typical of Western tour-, of like travelers Matt: Yeah, travelers, Pierre: (Yeah, travelers) you know, "I went in '85 to Kathmandu, oh! great, great, I went also to Ho Chi Minh, and, yeah, three years ago I was in Buenos Aires in Argentina, yeah, aaurv, great, great, yeah the tango, the tango on the [place name inaudible], and nobody goes there, and oh!, and you, where did you go?" [pause] "To London?" [Everyone laughs] In this excerpt the attitude of "travelers" is caricat~iredand parodied. The scorn that travelers have for tourists who choose to visit destinations in Europe, rather than traveling to more exotic locations is itself ridiculed

122 A. GILLESPIE

and scorned. Bob, Matt, and Pierre, by reflecting upon tourists' claim to a "traveler" identity, can be seen to be trying to escape the tourist-traveler evaluative dimension. They seem, instead, to be claiming a posttraveler position. The above excerpt comes close to illustrating what Feifer (1985) has described as the posttourist orientation. Posttourists embrace typical tourist practices in the spirit of self-mockery. These tourists, rather than trying to differentiate themselves from typical tourists, simply embrace tourism, but do so knowingly. Paradoxically, by enacting the stereotyped behaviors associated with the tourist dupe, they escape such positioning. This is primarily because they do so self-consciousIy, and thus are not nalve (naivety being a defining attribute of the tourist dupe). On several occasions I came across this positioning strategy among tourists. For example, returning to the group discussed above,-when E asked them "what souvenirs have you bought?" the group laughed, and Matt said, "the usual!" Although some tourists, do, at times, position themselves as "me-as-atourist-dupe,'' this self-categorization does not actually constitute them as tourist dupes. l'aradoxically, claiming to be a touiist dupe positions self as a posttourist. The reason for this is that the typical tourist is meant to be na'ive. The tourist who knowingly enacts the stereotype cannot be described as such and is thus defined in opposition to the tourist dupe. The tourist dupe is naive, the posttourist is not. While the typical tourist is portrayed as ignorant, especially with regards to photography, the posttourist wouId never openly claim to be ignorant or rude. Thus we still have a situation where the social position that is most talked about, namely that of the typical tourist, is one that is almost never identified with (or if so only briefly), and the majority of the time it is used to talk about other tourists.

MAPPING "ME" AND "THEY" POSITIONS

Tourist discourse does contain many points of view, and it is filled with internal debate. But, within this swirl of discourse, there are also points of stability. There are recurring debates which can be conceptualized as occurring on, or between, relatively stable evaluative dimensions, which in turn, contain relatively stable images, such as the goat herder and the tourist dupe. Figure 5.1 is an attempt to map out these points of stability, and thus map out the space within which tourist debate occurs. In this figure the broken curved line separates the "me" positions that tourists can occupy, from those they use to distinguish between Ladakhis. The ovals enclose positions which are linked, with bold lines, to form the evaluative dimen-

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Figure 5.1. Tourists' discourse about tourists and Ladakhis.

sions. Thus, we scc that tourists generally evaluate each otlier rising the tourist-traveler dimension, though a posttourist position lies outside o f this dirnension. The Batmanesque explosion indicates that the clash behveen the traveler-tourist discnurse and the posttourist discourse is stimulates much debate. On the there are two distinct evaluative dimcnsions: the developed-undeveloped dilllension and the more pronlincnt traditional-modern dimension. Recausc these two discourses, or dimensions, entail opposing evaluations of Ladakh, much debate occurs between these dimensions. Looking at this map, it becomes clear that it is difficult to partition the discourses between tourists and Ladakhis. While Ladakhis are not associated with any of the positions used to describe tourists (i.e., tourist, traveler, or posttourist), tourists are intricately associated with the Ladakhi positions. First, in the developed-undeveloped dimension, although the emphasis is on Ladakllis becoming developed, it is assumed that tourists are already developed. Second, in the traditional-modern discourse, the image of the lizardman, which objectifies the modern position, is, in a sense, caused by tourism. The lizardman wants to be like tourists, and is tempted away fi-oin tradition by tourist money. This entanglement goes both ways. Ladakhis rvho try to become developed or modern, must be understood in relation to tourism, and equally tourists as modern and tourists as coriuptors of traditional culture, must be understood in relation to Ladakh.

124 A. GILLESPIE

Becoming Other 125

Although the map in Figure 5.1 is static, containing just seven fixed positions, it should be clear that tourists' talk is not static. Tourist debate moves between these positions and across these dimensions. Individual tourists can and do espouse contradictory dimensions consecutively and even simultaneously. Thus the map does not present simply "the perspective of tourists," rather it tries to present the diversity of perspectives that tourists can take toward themselves and Ladakhis. This is a map of the degrees of freedom within which tourists self-reflective thought moves. The debates that are framed within this map, I suggest, correspond to the thinking phase of the touring act. These are the points where the world has become uncertain for tourists, and needs elaboration. Are the Ladakhis traditional or modern? Should they remain traditional or should they develop? Am I a tourist or a traveler? These are the points of rupture and uncertainty for tourists within the touring act. Questions emerge: To what extent have these "me" positions been constructed within the touring act?-Or, have they been brought to the touring act? And regarding the domains of self-reflection, have they been constructed within the touring act? Are tourists taking the perspective of Ladakhis when they are being self-reflective, when they become aware of themselves as "me-as-traveler" or "me-as-tourist-dupe?'' These are the questions that will be addressed in later analyses, but first we must map out the perspectives of Ladakhis within the touring act.

NOTES 1.

One might speculate that the best place to find useful discourse is to look at the conversations between Ladakhis and tourists. Alas, this discourse proves to be quite impoverished. In naturally occurring Ladakhi-tourist interactions, surprisingly little is said. For instance, on a trek, usually no more than a h a n d l l of words, chiefly pleasantries, are exchanged. What is most notable about this dialogue is the very absence of content concerning each other. There seems to be a power asymmetry in which tourists assume the social position of expert and Ladakhis tend to avoid contradicting tourists. Thus the fact is that Ladakhis and tourists spend much more time talking abod each other, than talking to each other, When apart from each other, they are freer to discuss those issues that they regard as problematic in the touring act (usually the perspective of the other). Accordingly, my focus will not be on inter-group discourse, but rather on intragroup discourse-that is, tourist-tourist discourse on the one hand and LadakhiLadakhi discourse on the other. 2. I acted as moderator in 23 of the tourist group discussions.To examine the possible influence of my being male on these discussions, I also got two female researchers to moderate three discussions on my behalf. The main difference observed was that when a woman assumed the role of moderator with female participants, the topics explored expanded to include

3.

being stared at by Ladakhi and Indian men, dealing with u~lsolicited approaches from men, and greater discussion about female tourists wearing provocatiile clothing. I am using the term "topic" in the prccise way defined by James (1884, p. 24) and explicated in chapter 1, p. 10.

CHAPTER 6

LISTENING TO LADAKHIS

What do Ladakhis say about tllemselves and toui-ists? What perspectives do they have, within the touring act? And, from the perspective of Ladakhis, wliat is ullcertain and ruptured within thc touring act? \ f l ~ a is t causing debate and needs claboration? What are their "me" and "they" positions? The previo~ischapter intl-oduced the touring act, from the pcrspective of tourists, and now we turn to the complcmentaiy, but quitc distinct, perspective of Ladakhis. Constructing a corpus of Ladakhi discourse proved to be Inore complex than for tourists, and the chapter begins with some of these considerations. The main part of thc chapel; huwevel; is again the presentation of tourist discussion, which I h w e tried to map in a meaningful way. The exercise is mainly descriptive; it is an attempt to communicate the Ladakhi point of view. The concluding - section compares the tourists' discourse wit11 the Ladakhis' discourse, pointing to~vardsome peculiar divergences, and thus leading to the questions that will be pursued in the following analyses. CONSTRUCTING A CORPUS OF LADAKHI DISCOURSE

Constructing a corpus of Ladakhi discourse, initially, proved problematic. While much of tourist discourse is in public settings, such as restaurants, most Ladakhi discourse is to be found in more private settings. While it is Beco?aing OIhev: An?u Social Intc~.actiorrto Self-Relection, 127-154 Copyright O 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights o f r e p ~ ~ d u c t i oinnany form reserved.

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relatively easy for me, a tourist, to approach naturalistic groups of tourists in restaurants, it is more difficult to approach Ladakhis, in their own homes. Initially, I tried the standard approach-making contacts, and then asking for introductions. Given how helpful and friendly Ladakhis are, this method proved relatively successful in putting me in contact with Ladakhis. However, this only led to a second problem, namely, my influence in the discussion. My presence, my cassette recorder, and my questions all served to create a species of interaction far removed from the everyday conversation that I sought. While there was banter when I was among Ladakhis that I knew, when I was a stranger the dynamics proved quite stifled. The extent to which I was an obstacle in these "discussions" became apparent when I sought to include the perspective of Ladakhi women in the corpus. Using contacts, I arranged for a preliminary interview with a young university-educated woman, who, I was assured, could speak English fluently. We sat together, in the guest room of her parents' house. She served tea, and I tried to initiate some rapport. My attempts failed. It appeared that I was such so strange and forbidding that she would not look at me directly, nor speak to me at any great length. Almost despairing of getting any interviews with wornen, I gave her my cassette recorder and suggested that she and some friends discuss the topics t had asked her about. Two days later, I received, via an intermediary, two cassettes with 2 hours of naturalistic and substantial discussion data. The advantage with this method is that the data that arises is very close to what is of interest-how Ladakhis construct tourists in conversation. These discussions are much more naturalistic, then when I am present. Moreover, participants in these group discussions are much more likely to talk about tourists in their discourse, than when I am present. Accordingly, I decided to make this my main method for constructing the corpus of Ladakhi discourse, and I was fortunate enough to enlist the help of eight truly wonderhl Ladakhi colleagues. These colleagues, all skilled conversationalists, went out into the Ladakhi public, searching out naturalistic groups, and stimulating debate and discussion.

The Ladakhi Participants

In accordance with the tenets of corpus construction the sampling aimed at diversity, and I ensured that the following population strata were covered: Muslim/Buddhist, males/females, lay/monk, urbanjrural, young/ elder, educated/uneducated (formal), high/low caste, rich/poor, Ladakhil Indian, Ladakhi/Kashmiri, and inside/outside the tourist business. Based on the content of these discussions I decided which discussions had some-

129

thing to contribute the corpus. Discussions with monks, soldiers, Kashmiris and Indians living in Ladakh were all excluded from the corpus because the content of their discourse was distinct, and would require a separate anaiysis to deal with. For example, some of the Icashmiris and Indians held extremely racist and negative attitudes toward Ladakhis. In total 38 discussions-with an average of 4.4 Ladakhis in each,-were included in the corpus. Fifteen were conducted in rural villages, and 23 in Leh. In terms of age, there is a good spread-from 15 to 80, although there is a statistical bulge around 25-30. This bulge coincides both with my age, at the time of the research, and the age of my Ladakhi colleagues. There were slighsly more tnen than women in the discussions, (68 women compared to 99 men), and Muslims are somewhat underrepresented. The group that is overrepresented arc those who work with tourists-who tend to be Buddhist met1 in their twenties and thirties, well educated and able to speak English. This group deserves special attention, for it is among them that I found the greatest diversity of viewpoiiits, and the most debate.

Discursive Context

My Ladakhi colleagues, who modcr-atcd these discussions, were between the ages of 18 and 40 at the time of the research, and occupied diverse positions within Ladakhi society (three teachers, two guides, orre shopkeeper, one student, and one enti-epi-eneur). Three of the moderators are women and five are men. The moderators introduced the research to participants as being about "changes in Ladakh." They told participants that I was a foreign 1-esearcherwho was writing a PhD, or a book, about "changes in Ladakh." They stressed that participants did not have to be polite or nice about any of the topics raised. Generally, they explained that I had been in Ladakh for a long time, and was a decent person. Sometimes they elaborated by referring to some good deed I had done either for the moderator or for the community. In some instances, the moderator demonstrated that participants did not have to be polite, by saying, while the cassette recorder was running, something scandalous or foolish. With some of the rural participants, the moderator had to clarify that it was not meant to be like the radio intervielvs that are occasionally aired on a local station. In such cases the moderators made the discussion as informal as possible. After being introduced to the reseairh project, several Ladakhis, mostly elderly and rural, declined to participate. The main reason given was that they felt they had nothing to contribute.

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The moderators understood my preference for naturalistic group discussions, and facilitated this in different ways, which they devised independently, as they knew better than me how to make participants feel at ease. I did, however, give them some pointers, such as the use of bold questions, jokes, probing and the third person technique (e.g., "But one fellow told me," Luria, 1974, p. 57) in order to stimulate debate and ease the exchange of ideas. Depending upon the group, I financed food, sweets, or beer. The discussions were held in people's homes, in restaurants, in fields, in school halls, and under the shade of trees. The discussions lasted from % to over 6 hours. Partly because participants were amont Criends, and partly because of the skill and enthusiasm of my Ladakhi colleagues, the conversations appeared to be enjoyable and spontaneous.

Topics Covered

The topics to be raised in each discussion were agreed upon by me and the moderator. The criteria for including a topic were: Had the topic been saturated? Might the topic have some relation to tourism or changes in Ladakh? Was the moderator keen to address this issue? Will the topic stimulate debate? Is this topic of interest to the participants? In this way, discussions varied in their content according to the composition of interests and concerns among moderator and participants, within the general constraints of the research interests. The list of topics drawn up was much larger than could reasonably be covered. The moderator was not instructed to follow the topics in a particular order nor to addl-ess all of them. The topics were to be formed into discussion-stimulating questions and to be used to sustain conversation. As with the tourist discussions, the topics covered were not all predetermined, but evolved during the research and came to reflect the issues intersecting with tourism about which Ladakhis are concerned. The topics covered included: Ladakh in the past, Ladakh in the future, development, caste, changes in religion, differences between men and women, changes among the young generation, current politics in Ladakh, the effect of tourism, tourists' wealth, and tourists' motivations. Questions which proved particularly effective at stimulating discussion induded: If you had three wishes what would they be? Is the Dalai Lama reincarnated? Should Ladakhis wear the gonchha? Should marriages be arranged by parents? Would you like to live in the United States? In comparison to the topics covered by tourists, the topics discussed by Ladakhis are much broader in range. When tourists began to discuss wider issues, Ladakh was simply forgotten about, and consequently effort

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13 1

was made to keep tourists on the topic of tourists and Ladakhis. However, when Ladakhis discuss wider issues, the discussion remains relevant to our interests. Ladakhis invoke comparisons with tourists, and the perspective of tourists, in regard to an amazing variety of topics. From marriage to caste, from politics to eco~~omics, from past to hopes for the fiiture-tourists have a place in all these topics. This fact suggests that tolirisnl in Ladakh has had more impact upon the syrnbolic world of 1,adakhis than it has had on the symbolic rvorld or tourists. Once I had decided that saturation had been I-cached, group discussions ceased. I-Io~vcver,because of a lag ill transcribing the discussions, several group cliscussions were transcribed at a later date and added tu the corpus, thlis filrther guaranteeing my being saturated with data. Overall, sat~rrationof basic content was reacbed rnore quickly in the tourist corpus than in the 1,adakhi corpus. This is unsurprising given that tourists are a relatively liomogenous and self-selecting group (by virtue of choicc of destination). I am sure this also reflects tny lack of familiarity with Ladaklii discourse, compared to the discourse of tourists.

MAPPING LADAKHIS' DISCOURSE

The corpus contains almost a hundred hours of Ladaklii discourse. The majority of this discourse is in Ladakhi-only five or the discussions were entirely in English. In order to make this discourse manageable, all the Ladakhi discussions were translated and transcribed. This was a time consuming operation, and, again, I must thank my Ladakhi colleagues who were so diligent and patient in what must have seemed to them an extraordinary task. The process of translation and transcription necessarily involves the loss of detail. People do not speak the way we write-complete sentences are rare and half-words are common. I worked through this process with may Ladakhi colleagues as part of my effort to learn Ladakhi. Together we checked the accuracy of translations, and agreed upon a reasonable level of detail. Due to the sheer volume of discussion to be translated and the research question, it was agreed not to transcribe in minute detail. Rathel; we translated every utterance as a whole, and avoided repetitions and broken sentences. This choice, whilst justifiable at a practical level, limited the utility of the Ladakhi corpus in terms of the more detailed analysis presented in chapters 1 1 and 12. Special attention was given to Ladakhis' use of English and Hindi words within Ladakhi sentences. Such incorporations provide useful indicators about the social origin of a given discourse. In the transcriptions, the use of English words is differentiated from Ladakhi tvords by the use of capitals, while the use of Hindi words is simply noted in brackets.

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Once the transcripts were prepared, they were loaded, along with mp3s of the English conversations, into Atlaslti. As with the tourist corpus, I then began by trying to map this universe of discourse. Assuming that discourse is often about that which has become ruptured, 1 sought to identify the ruptures in the discourse. Specifically, the mapping proceeded by asking first, what are Ladakhis saying about themselves and tourists? And secondly, looking within the resultant pools of discourse for points of debate? The map produced by this method, is presented in the following sections. Again the discourse can be parsed into three subdiscourses, each with its own logic, and its own evaluative dimension. And again, much of the debate arises in the clash between these discourses.

DISTINGUISHING BETWEEN TOURISTS

Two words which repeatedly arise in Ladakhi discourse about tourists are chhugpo and chhadfio. Directly translated, chhugpo means rich and chhudpo means a poor person whose dress is broken, ragged, torn or frayed. Howevei; in relation to tourists, these words have other connotations. Chhu@o tourists, as well as being rich, are seen to be concerned about the sate of Ladakh-concerned about the education system; concerned about preserving the culture; and, concerned with being respectful. For Ladakhis, these concerns often manifest, when chl~ugpotourists sponsor a Ladakhi child to attend school and maybe even assist by working in one of the local NGOs. These "good" tourists do not litter, they dress respectably, and they pay and tip generously. Chlmdpo tourists, on the other hand, are associated with pollution, skimpy disrespectful dress, drugs, alcohol, and motorbikes. One of the defining features of ckhadpo tourists is that they do not benefit Ladakh in any significant way-they set a bad example for the youth and they are difficult to work with because they bargain so much. There is a growing fear about AIDS in Ladakh. To date there have been no reported cases, but it is feared that promiscuous chhadpo tourists will introduce AIDS to Ladakh.

How Wealthy and Generous are They?

Tourism accounts for about half of Ladakh's income and it comes as no surprise that many Ladakhis depend upon tourists for their financial wellbeing. Accordingly, many of the frontline Ladakhis, that is those who deal with tourists for a living, are primarily concerned to differentiate tourists on the basis of their relative wealth. Some of the souvenir sellers that I became acquainted with were particularly proud of their ability to "esti-

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mate a touristsn-that is determine a tourists' wealth on the basis of a brief interaction. This is a necessary skill for those who work with tourists, for tourists often ask about the price of, for example, a trek, a hotel room, or a souvenir. All such prices are negotiable in Ladakh, and essential to this negotiation is the estimated wealth of the tourist. The following excerpt reveals some of the ways in which Ladakhis differentiate between tourists on the basis ofwealth: Ladakhi moderator: OK, tourists that we see are rich, right? Tashi: What I think is that nobody in the universe is rich, because nol~odyis satisfied wit11 what he has. People consider the tourists to be very rich. 'lhey spend lots of moncy. I cannot say whether they are really rich or not. Then why are they spending so many DOLLadakl~imoderator: LARS in a day? Tashi: Yes, they are cash rich? Ladakhi moderator: Have you ever seen ally tour-istswho spend 500 or 1,000 rupees a day? Tashi: Some tourists cook for themselves and some live in big hotcls. There are uppcr class, lower class and middle class tourists. Ladakhi moderator: Tourists Srom which countly bring the most DOLLARS? Tashi: British, they are rich-see the value of thcir currency. Tashi responds to the moderators' question by drawing upon the tenets of Buddhism, according to which, wealth does not satisfy desire, and therefore one who is financially rich is necessarily "rich." The moderator seems to be somewhat annoyed by the question being understood in this way, and tries to emphasize that tourists spend 500-1,000 rupees a day (27-14). Tashi resists by stating that tourists have varying degrees of wealth. Some tourists, Tashi says, cook for themselves (and thus do not hire cooks on treks or use restaurants), while others can afford to live in "big hotels" (and never cook for themselves). Thus Tashi distinguisl~esthe two positions that I have mentioned above--chhndpo and chhzigpo. The moderator accepts that tourists have differential wealth, and then rephrases the question and asks which tourists are the most wealthy and "bring most dollars?" Tashi's response to this question is also revealing, in that he states that the British are the most chItz~gpobecause of the "value of their currency." This references the fact that the British get about 67 Indian rupees for

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one pound. No other major currency gets so many rupees per unit. Tourists from the United States, for example, only get about 40 Indian rupees for a dollar, while tourists traveling with the euro get a bit more for one euro. This utterance must be seen in terms of the widespread assumption among Ladakhis that one pound is equal to one dollar which is equal to one rupee, and that through the system of currency exchange an asymmetry is introduced. According to this logic, the British are 67 times as wealthy as the Indians, and almost twice as wealthy as Americans. It should be stated that not all Ladakhis accept this rationale because they are aware that prices vary in different countries, and thus the value of one unit of currency is not fixed. Nevertheless, the theory is widespread and it is justifies a pause for thought, because it provides a window into the Ladakhi perspective on wealth inequality. From a Ladakhi point of view, British tourists are assumed to be 67 times wealthier than the Ladakhis. Of course there are both rich and poor British tourists, as Tashi points out, but it follows that even a relatively poor tourist is rich by Ladakhi standards. The theory allows Ladakhis to draw up equivalences between themselves and tourists. For example, few Ladakhis would argue about one rupee, yet Ladakllis note that British tourists will often bargain severely for 67 rupees. The interesting thing about this interpretive frame is that it positions most tourists as not only very rich (much more so than they are in reality), but also as quite mean. Equally, tourists who are generous with their money are, in a strange way, positioned along-side the Ladakhis, for neither will argue over one unit of their own currency. This interpretation, as we will see, leads to a peculiar misunderstanding because, as mentioned in the last chapter, tourists think that paying over the odds corrupts Ladakhis and they feel an obligation to bargain and to only pay local prices. While such frugality is respected among "travelers," the fact is that it is seen as strangely mean from a Ladakhi point of view which accordingly positions travelers as clzhadpo.

What Impact are They Having? Perhaps the most emotive topic of debate for Ladakhis, with regards to tourists, is not their relative wealth, but rather their impact upon Ladakh. The impacts of tourism are recognized to be diverse, sometimes good (such as economic development) and sometimes bad (su& as pollution and moral corruption). The following exchange illustrates some of the positive impacts of tourism, as perceived by a young Ladakhi woman: Ladakhi moderator: What do you think about TOURISTS?

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Dolma: As TOURISTS come, we are progressing, from them, we've learnt things from them, and we've received KNOWLEDGE from them. Since they have come, we have progressed a lot as to g o ~ ~ ~ f ~ a , HOTEL, GUEST HOUSE. HOTELS are built because they visit, and a lot of children, having no work, do business with them and earn from them. Ladakhi moderator: EVEN TAXI DRIVERS owe their work to tourists, don't they? Uolma: TAXI DRIVERS, yes, and wherever you look there is progress because of them, especially in Leh. Much of the development in Ladakh, such as roads, tclccoinmunications, shops, restaurants, taxis, and gontf~aI-enovations, is altl-ibutcd to tourists. Becausc tourists speak English, and the erlucation system is in English, tourists are also perceived to contribute to the education of the youth. In one discussion, tourists wcre described as having "special brains." This may indicate a Iceling of inferiority with regards to knowledge and education. Nevertheless, there is a widespread feeling that tourists are bringing both to Ladakh. While most Ladakhis conceptrralize these positive impacts of tourism in terms of' economic development, a minority of the business class in Leh also nlention that tourism has caused a revival of Ladakhi cult~ure.They point out that since the arrival of tourists the number of cultural events has greatly increased and there is more pride in the traditional culture. Tourism, from the perspective of Ladakhis, also has negative impacts, ~vhichare attributable to cA1iadpo tourists. Tourists who dress in "hippy" or "giunge" styles are seen to be wearing dirty and worn clothes-to them this is incoinprel~ensiblegiven tourists' wealth. But more than not sharing money and dressing badly, cltlzudpo tourists kiss in public, smoke I~ashish, ieave rooms in a mess (very unusual among Ladakhis), and couples go into bathrooms together. One Ladakhi said of cl~hadpotourists: "They kiss each other everywhere, among other people, women go around with the least clothes on, and the men go out with just their undet-wear on!" From the standpoint of Ladakhis, t-shirts and shorts are undel~veacAmong both Ladakhi men and women, clothes usually cover arms and legs, and are loose fitting in order to conceal body shape. Thus tourists, seeking a tan under the intense Ladakhi sun, create the unintended meaning of shocking promiscuity in the minds of the Ladakhis. ChAaclpo tourists are seen to be polluting in a moral sense. Their consumerism and promiscuous behavior is seen to "cori-upt," or "spoil" the

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youth. In the foliowing excerpt, Tsering has just argued that Ladakhis are preserving their culture: Tsering: But today the youth are changing? [...I jigmet: Yes, the youth have CHANGED a bit because of TOURISTS as we live with them. We smoke CIGARETTES, dam, [alcohol in Hindi] charm [marijuana in Hindi]. Some TOURISTS do these and this has an effect on the youth of Ladakh The young Ladakhis are seen to be copying the chhadpo tourists, by smoking cigarettes and marijuana, and drinking beer. This perceived negative influence is used to account for the fact that young Ladakhi women arc beginning to wear reveaIing Western fashions, and for what is perceived as being a new found promiscuity among the youth. The Ladakhi women have an additional topic of debate which does not arise among dle men. The women discuss these issues mentioned so far, but from their perspective the impact is not on them, but on "their" Ladakhi men. They are especially worried about female tourists leading Ladakhi men astray, making "the men cal~lessabout their studies," "spoiling the men," and spreading diseases like AIDS. "Why are you Undertaking Such Hardships to Come Here?"

Ladakhis are not only concerned about whether they will profit from tourists and what impact tourists will have, they also spend considerable time discussing the motives of tourists. For many Ladakhis, one travels to see someone, to trade, or for pilgrimage. Travel as an end in itself is incomprehensible. Thus, their very presence in Ladakh is a puzzling, even worrying, rupture, and demands reconstnlctive labor. The following quotation is taken from a group discussion among young rural Ladakhi women: TOURISTS take a Iot of photos, god knows, sometimes we feel good but sometimes we are also afraid, many yellow and red people, we don't know, we feel afraid. And then, since we do not know the language, we fear ... now if we knew the language we would ask them, "why are you undertaking such hardships to come here?"

These women are suspicious of tourists whose only motive seems to be just looking around and taking photos. It is not that these women are afraid of cameras: most Ladakhi households have a photo album, if not a camera. But in Ladakh one only takes photos of family and friends, not of strangers. Moreover, expending time and money on travel, often trekking

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for days, only for a brief visit and a few photographs is quite perplexing. The final segment of the quotation is particularly interesting. It is more difficult to infer the mind of the other through obse~~lation than via speech (Farr & Anderson, 1983). Ladakhi-tourist encounters are chiefly based upon mutual obsel-vation.This young woman is aware that there is an asymmetry of pcrspective, and that in order to try and overcome tl~is divergence she would like to speak to the tourists, in thcir language, and ask them why they have come. Due to the language barriel; the mind of the tourist is a comparable one can hear that to a black box for Ladakhis. In Laclakhi disc~~ssions diverse motivations are attributed to tourists. Sometimes tourisn~ is a~zchoredin pilgrimage. This fits well with the fact that most tourists do visit the various monaste~-ies,but it fails to accolint for those tourists who do not. Moreovel; in many circles in Ladakh it is conl111on kn01v1edgc that tourists are not Buddhists. This, in turn adds to the itnpenetrability of the tourist mind. Alternative explanations that I encountesed include: the assnmption that tourists a1-e writing books or making postcards which will bring them lots of profit; that they are escaping environmental pollution and the stresses of life in thc West; that thcy are doing reseal-c11 on old people (a reasonable assumption given the attention that elderly Ladakhis receive from tourists); that Laclakh is chcap and a good place to party; and, that the West is bereft of culture and traditions and so tourists travel to Ladakh to see, and purchase in the form of antiques, Ladakhi culturc. While these different attributions proliferate, thcre is one over-arching concern that is constant: Do the tourists respect Ladakhis?

Do They Respect us? From a Meadian perspective, identity is fundamentally a fi~nctionof how self perceives other's attitude to~vardself, or, rvhat I think that you think about me. In Ladakh it is clear that the concern with tourists' motivations, and especially tourists' respect or lack thereof, is deeply connected to Ladakhis' identity. Tourists, with their wealth and status, are a significant voice constituting Ladakhi identity. The importance of tourists' attitude toward Ladakh is evidenced in the follo\ving excerpt from a heated debate: Ladakhi moderator: TOURISTS, do they respect us? Nassir: Yes Tsogyal: They definitely RESPECT us. I am at least SURE about this

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Nassir: Yes they do Ladakhi moderator: Sure? Norbu: We can not take people's [i.e., tourists'] sayings SURELY [at face value] Ladakhi moderator: We have seen Israelis come to Leh and when they went to the PETROL PUMP, they said "FULL Tank" and pointed to the next person and then they ran away, is that respect? Tashi: All are not alike Nassir: There are types of TOURISTS TOO [...] Wr instance, there are many TOURISTS who have UNDERSTANDINGS, [others, such as] the Israelis, they openly kiss, why, because they are used to it. Some come to see a traditional house but an Israeli never does. Some come here to see our CULTURE to learn our LANGUAGE and chat with us, why do they need our LANGUAGE, wc are a small corner of INDIA, what will they achieve by learning this? They enjoy it because they enjoy talking to us and seeing how we live, they see our habib and our ways, they help us with agriculture, that's how they respect us. 0 t h envise why do they need to leave those big INDUSTRIES and come here? The young men in this discussion can all speak English-as evidenced by their frequent use of English terms-and yet they are puzzled by tourists' motivations. The problem is that, as Norbu says, "we can not take people's [tourists'] sayings SURELY." They know that tourists say that they like and l-espect Ladakhis, but are tourists concealing ulterior motives? The discussion is complex as it attempts to reconstruct the motivations of tourists on the basis of evidence. The group is integrating what tourists say with what they do and wisely, they place more emphasis on actions than words. In the course of the discussion the moderator, trying to stimulate debate, refers to a story that I heard on several occasions, fmm several different sources. A gfoup of Israelis, on motorbikes, had gone to the sole petrol station in Ladakh-just outside Leh. Each tourist told the petrol pump attendant that the next tourist would pay, and drove away. The last tourist, who was supposed to pay the whole bill, said that he did not know who the Israelis were. The perpetrators of this crime are stereotypically chhadpo-they are on motorbikes and they are mean to the point of stealing from the poor pump attendant. As will become clear, Ladakhis also

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regard Israeli tourists as being an objectification of chhadi~otourists. Again we are dealing with chhadl~otourists, and again they are of little benefit to Ladakhis. Howevel; the main theme in the stoiy does not concern the actions of chhadpo tourists per se, but rather their attitudes. The stoty is taken to indicate a lack of respect. Nassir accepts the story (as I mentioned, it had circulated widely), but argues that there are many different types of tourist, and he proceeds to insist that at least some tourists do gctiuinely respect Ladakhis. He concludes with the powerfi~lrhetorical question: "rvhy do they leave those big INDUSTRIES and come here?" From Nassir's point of view, those "big INDUSTRIES" are perceived in positive terms-thus he betrays a degree of admiration for modernity. The argument is that tourists would not Icave the \$rest, with its high levels of tecl~nologyand production, without good reason. Traveling in order to disrespcct Ladakllis makes little sense. Accordingly, Nassir claims, tourists must "come hcrc to see our CULTURE." This argurnent is part of a larger complex of idcas, where it is assumed that tourists are culturally bankrupt. Tourists have lost thcir culture, it is said, and this is why they must travel to 1,adakh. On several occasions I have heard I>adakhisuse this explanation to convince other Ladakhis of the need to preserve their ow~tculturc. They argue chat if Ladakh looses its culture, thcn Ladakllis would have to expend vast sums of money travelilig thc world, like ~outists,in a compensatoly quest to see the culture of other people. In the above discussion, no one challenges Nassil; and the argument moves on. However, there is a retort, which although rarcly invoked, sho~ildbe mentioned. This is the idea that tourists visit Idadakhwith the attitude of visiting a zoo. Although they come to see the culture and the way of life, the argument goes, they do not in fact respect either I have only heard this argument on a couple of occasions, and in all instances it was proffered by well educated young men who had had considerable experience working with tourists.

The Chhugpo-Chhadpo Evaluative Dimension

Ladakhis need to distinguish between tourists in order to do business with them; in order to manage tourism in Ladakh; and, in order to constitute their own identity. The distinctions which Ladakhis make are subtle and suited to a variety of contexts and issues. One could make a good case for identifying two evaluative dimensions: the generous-mean and the respecting-disrespecting. Howevel; for the purposes of our analysis, this degree of subtlety is not necessary. There is in fact considerable overlap: fi-om a Ladakhi point of view, generous tourists also tend to respect Lada-

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khis and mean tourists tend to be disrespectful. Thus, instead of two evaluative dimensions, I will make use of just one, which will be called the chhugpo-chhadpo evaluative dimension. The iconic cores that sustain this evaluative dimension are evident in the very terms chhugpo and chhadpo. To reiterate, chhadpo tourists have torn or dirty clothes. They are disrespectful in dress and manner-for example they do not dress up to go to temples and they do not leave generous tips. Chhudpo tourists are disruptive; they are visualized as driving noisy motorbikes and frequenting bars. The chl~ugposubject position, on the other hand, is much more generous and beneficent. The Deputy Director of Tourism, Urgain Loondup, told me quite explicitly, that he is trying to encourage more ch,hugpo tourists and that it is only by virtue of such tourists that Ladakh can develop. According to Urgain Loondup, chhugpo tourists will bring both money and respect for Ladakhi culture and that both or these are necessaiy for the future of Ladakh. Comparing the chhugpo-chhudpo dimension to the tourists' traveler-touris1 dimension reveals a profound divergence. The cl~hugpo-chhadpoevaluation is almost the reverse of traveler-tourist evaluation. Among tourists, living cheaply, paying local prices and resisting manipulation are admirable, and distinguish the traveler from the tourist. "Real" travelers operate on a low budget. However, from a Ladakhi perspective, tourists on a low budget are chhdpo-they do not pay generously and thus contribute little to the development of Ladakh. Ladakhis are more interested in the amount of money tourists leave behind than in tourists' living cheaply. The chhugpo tourists that Ladakhis are on the look out for, are not what tourists would cat1 travelers. In many ways "travelers" pose more of a problem for Ladakhis than do so-called "tourist dupes." For example, travelers taking a local bus are an enigma for Ladakhis who would always take the aeroplane if they could afford it. Why, they wonder, do tourists who are up to 67 times wealthier than Ladakhis, choose to take the local bus? And why, they wonder, do they have such dirty clothes? Any selfrespecting Ladakhi keeps their clothes spotlessly clean. However, many so-called hardened travelers arrive in torn and dirty clothes. The chhugpo tourists, on the other hand, are obviously wealthy and spend their wealth, as any Ladakhi would, on good quality clean clothes. The fact that tourists and Ladakhis privilege opposite actions among tourists is quite interesting. For the most part, neither tourists nor Ladakhis are aware of this divergence. The analysis in chapters 8 and 9 wi11 argue that this divergence is sustained by virtue of these discourses belonging to different social acts.

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LADAKHIS: FOLLOWING CULTURE OR FASHION?

Ladakh, like any complex society, has numerous ways of positioning its members. Distinctions are made on the basis of gender, education, wealth, occupation, village of origin, caste and religion: to name but a few. It is not my intent to map out all the different subject positions that 1,adakhis extend to each other. Instead, I will focus on dcbates in which tourism is implicated. From this point ofview, the most pertinent distinction is between Ladakhis who are followers of fashion and thosc who uphold traditional culture.

Who is Following the Fashion?

The Ladakhi concept of "fashion" shares much with the image of the cl~h~(d/~o tourist. Both images convey feelings of promiscuity and corruption. Both images imply a rcjeclion or at least disrespect for tradition, and both images give prominence to clrcss. Ladakhis use dress as a means to identify, and thus position, Laclakhis who are following the ''Tashion." Equally, contmlling how one dresscs is an important nieaiis to contl-01 horv one is positioned in relation to "fashion." Debates about dress and, more generally "fashion," often focus upon women's dress. The way in which Ladakhi women dress has become an index tracking increased cori-uption and clegradation. For examplc, in one discussion about changes between the past and the present a man, arguing that the changes had been negative, said: "Girls, earliel; did not wear TIGHT clothes but now they are put on TIGHT clothes!" The emphasis on the English wol-cl "tight" concerns the visibility of the female body shape. Set against the background of Ladakhi values and traditional norms, "tight" dress is quite scandalous. This attribution is also made by the women themselves. So, for example, in response to the previous utterance, one Ladakhi woman interjected with an exclamation of scandal: "soon we will be wearing MINIS!" The idea of wearing miniskirts in Ladakh is outrageous. At the core of this concept, then, is promiscuity. The connection to tourism is made manifest in the type of dress that Ladakhis consider to be scandalous (yet tempting). Tourists have introduced Ladakhis to "tight" clothes and miniskirts, and as such, they have facilitated the corruption of Ladakhi women. Interestingly, those Laclakhi women who incline toward this style of dress (no one actually wears miniskirts) are called "LOCAL ISMELIS." As mentioned above, in Ladakhi discourse Israeli tourists are closely associated with the position of the chlradfio tourist. Calling young Laclakhis who wear modern dress "LOCAL ISRAELIS" underscores the

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point made above, namely that it is the chhadpo tourists who are seen to be having the negative impact on Ladakh. Within the universe of discourse that sustains the concept of "fashion," dress is the means through which the moral state of an individual is ascertained. Wearing "fashion" is taken to indicate a corrupt state of mind. The exact nature of this link is the topic of discussion in the following debate between some boisterous young men: Dorje: Now I will tell you, they [Ladakhi women] see money, only money these days I'unchok: If you take them to Amdo Food [a popular restaurant] that's all Dorje: Who ever takes them to a good restaurant, who ever takes them for a drive Ladakhi moderator: Don't say every girl, every girl means, there are many girls, you can still find some simple girls Punchok: The girls wearing J W S trousers, this is their feeling Ladakhi moderator: How come, how can she think this way if she is wearing JEANS, by wearing JEANS does her MIND CHANGE? No doubt that the clothes on her body CHANGE but how can this CHANGE her MIND? There are a few good women Punchok: Her mind is changed that's why she wears JEANS. If her MIND is CHANGING, then it's not bad to wear JEANS PANT Angchuk: So has your MIND CHANGED, given that you are wearing these clothes [indicating that they are all wearing jeans] Punchok: Yes my MIND has CHANGED Ladakhi moderator: Listen to me, listen to meTashi: At of us are wearing fjeans], so everyone is bad The topic of debate here is whether wearing 'tjeans" indicates that ones "mind" has changed. By "mind change," these Ladakhis are referring to desires. Women who wear jeans "see money, only money" and the promise of "good restaurants." The desirous mind of the women wearing jeans is juxtaposed to the "simple girls," who are described as "good women." The opposition that then emerges is between fashionable women on the one hand, and traditional women on the other. The distinction is morally loaded: traditional women are "good" rvhile the ones wearing jeans, like the men in the discussion, are "bad." To have a changed mind, to become desirous of money and good restaurants must be understood in terms of

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Buddhism which forms the moral frame of reference for most Ladakhis. According to Buddhism, desii-e is the root of all suffering. Thus any increase in desire is a backwards step on the spiritual path. The pursuit of materialistic desires is seen to be misbegotten and shallow, for it can bring only temporaly satiation, and cornplete conteiltillent can only be realized by renouncing all desircs. Possibly because of the evident importance of tlle Buddhist moral framework in constn~cting"fashion" as "bad," it is not surprising that young Buddhist monks come under close scrutiny. As has been mentioned, one of the attractions for tourists traveling to Ladakll is Buddhism, and therefore monks attract a lot of attention. Tt is relatively easy for a young monk to befricnd, and even sornance, female tourists. This fact is acknowledged (with some jealously) by the young men who work as guides and shop keepers. Through friendships with tourists young monks also receive gifts like hiking boots, warm jackets, and sun glasses-all of which put tlie recipient monks at thc top of the "fashion" hierarchy. Accordingly, the monks are also positioned as devotecs of "fashion" or perhaps more preciscly, of tourists. The Laclakhi phr-ase for such monks is "FASHION la?i?n."These monks wear baseball caps a n d arc seen to be desi~011s of money and women-"tliey take womcn into the prayer room." Like the chhad#o tourists "FASHION la?rznWarc inlagined as wearing sunglasses, spending time with women, and, intctrstingly, riding motol-bikes. One ongoing debate is whether nlonks should be permitted to rick motorbikes. The argument against thcm riding motorbikes is that it is "fashion," little more than copying tourists: the asgument in support of this practice, usually proffered by the monks themselves, is that monks must travel and the use of a motorbike is more ethical than riding a horse or pony. To ride a horse or a pony, they argue, is to exploit a sentient being. The point to draw from thcsc debates, howevei-, is that there are bvo prototypical subject positions, both for lay Ladakhis and for monkson the one hand there are those who follow the tourists and "fashion," rvhile on the other hand there are those who follow the Ladakhi culture and thus remain traditional. "Fashion" Versus Culture?

Ladakhi debate, about the position of Ladakhis, is organized around what I call the cult~11-e-fashionevaluative dimension. This dimension is centi-a1 to Ladakhi public and private life. It arises in debates regarding the future direction of Ladakh and it arises in the private lives of Ladakhis when they make decisions that concern for example, what to wear and how to position themselves within the public sphere. Accordiilg to the culture-fashion evaluative dimension it is "good" to uphold traditional

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Ladakhi culture, while it is "bad" to wear fashionable dress. One such objectification of culture is the gonchha (a maroon overcoat, see Figure 3.2), which has come, by synecdoche, to take on the meaning of culture in general-although, it should be noted that Ladakhis also include history, Buddhism, religious statues, dances and music in their construction of culture. Fashion, on the other hand, is synonymous with anything that might imply a loss of culture, and this is objectified by not wearing the gonchha and instead, wearing Western style dress (jeans, t-shirts, baseball caps, sunglasses, and sporty jackets). Following the "fashion" and upholding the culture do cocxist to some extent, however, their coexistence is constrained by the fact that the opposition is objectified at the level of dress: it is difficult to wear both "fashion" and the goncltha at the same timethough it is common for young Ladakhis to wear a baseball cap and/or sunglasses when wearing the gonchha. This tangible objectification of the opposition means that everyone in Ladakh cannot help but position themselves along this dimension. By virtue of wearing clothes, and thus choosing which clothes to wcar, each Ladakhi claims a certain position within this discourse. The culture-fashion dimension is quite similar to the tourists' traditional-modern dimension. The gonchha, which objectifies Ladakhis' conception of culture, is also important for tourists, who take it to indicate traditional Ladakhi Iife. The image of the goat herder, however, is of little import for Ladakhis as goat herding, or indeed dealing with animals in general, is only a small aspect of traditional Ladakhi life: tending to animals is not mentioned by Ladakhis as being part of their culture. Turning to the iconic image of the lizardman we can say that this is similar to the Ladakhis' image of the fashion Ladakhi-both are defined by modern dress and an uncontrollable desire for money and modernity. One interesting difference between tourists' and Ladakhis' discourse is that authenticity is very important for tourists, but is never an issue for Ladakhis. Ladakhis do have a concept of authenticity, for example, they are very concerned about whether gifts received from tourists, such as Ray-Ban sunglasses, North Face clothing and Salomon hiking boots, are genuine Western commodities rather than cheap Indian or Chinese replicas. But the Ladakhis do not use authenticity within the culture-fashion discourse. For tourists, the authenticity of the Ladakhis they encounter is of crucial importance. Mediation by money is perceived as being a destroyer of authenticity for tourists. For example, being offered tea by a Ladakhi, in the spirit of friendship (rather than for money), is emblematic of an authentic encounter. Tourists are very concerned with whether a festival is directed at tourists or Ladakhis. For tourists, a show that is "put on" purely for the benefit of tourists is inauthentic and only of interest to

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a tourist dupe. Ladakhis, on the other hand, do not make this distinction. For Ladakhis to "put on" a cultural show for tourists is as "real" as any other cultural event. Divest of problems of authenticity, the culture-fashion dimension is less opposed to development than the tradition-modern dimension. From a tourist point of view, it is almost impossible to be "developed" and to conserve traditional life. Howlevel; Ladakhis t ~ yto do both, hence they argue that they can modernize while prese~vingtheir culture on special days and at special events.

Following the "Fashion" and Upholding the Culture? I have never hearcl a Ladakhi questio~lwllethcr 1,adakhi culture shoulcl be preserved to some extent. The debate is all about to which extent. It is also abuadantly clear that most Ladakhis do not wcar traditional dress. In the villages the women tend lo wcar traditional dress, but most of 111e young men do not. 111 Leh vely few people wcar the traditional drcsswith thc exception of some nationalistic politicians. Necclless to say this widespread disjunctio~lcauses considesablc debate. Sonle ar-guc that tourists should be banned from weal-ing shorts, others that Ladakhi wornen should be banned from wearing jeans, and still others that all Ladakhis should wear only the gonckha. Recently the gonchhn has beconle the compulsory school uniform in several schools, and at some religious festivals Ladakhis are only permitted entrance if they are wearing the gotzchhn. Why do these rules need to be imposed? Morcovel; if there is such high regard for Ladakhi culture, why don't people wear the gonchha all the time? Although Ladakhis agree that "fashion" is "bad," it is also clearly quite tempting. Accordingly, much Ladakhi discourse is tlying to reconstruct this dissonant domain, as the follo\ving exchange illustrates:

Ladakhi moderator: At present our DRESS-UP has completely CHANGED. Is contemporaly dress good for us to wear now, or should a7e wear TRADITIONAL DRESS? Wangial: Actually tve should wear TRADITIONAL DRESS, but in SOCIETY you cannot do anything without this dress [pointing to his own Western dress] Ladakhi moderator: If there is something that stops you doing something, that is not good M'angial: It is not good, but as it does not work we can't help it

146 A. GILLESPIE

Sonam: This [pointing to his Western dress] is better. In the middle of summer can you imagine wearing a gonchha - the dirty one! Angchuk: Wearing gonchhu is not necessary, this [pointing to Western dress] is good for us. Isn't it? We should not forget our CULTURE. OCCASIONALLY we have to wear traditional dress, there is TIME for them Dorje: Yes, yes. Angchuk: There are occasions when we should, like yesterday at Ldalang [a ceremony celebrating the birth of a child] we were wearing the gonclzha, and we looked nice These men are educated businessmen working in Leh. They have all been outside Ladakh and would be among the most so-called modern Ladakhis, yet still they insist that they should not forget their "culture," by which they mean that they should wear the gonchh. But the fact remains that they are not wearing the gonchha. There is an attempt to rationalize this fact. Wangial says that "you cannot do anything" without Western dress, by which he means that the traditionai dress is inhibiting. A common perception is that the gonchha is not suited to "fast" modern life as it is too lleavy, It slows down movement, and is excessively hot. Sonam, like many others I have heard, states that thegonchha is too hot to wear "in the middle of summer." Though, I should add, that when I have encounte~xd these men during the winter, they have never been wearing the gonchha. Although Ladakhis unanimously say that Ladakhi culture should be preserved, why is it then that the vast majority of Ladakhis do not wear the gonchhu? Why in the previous excerpt, are none of the participants wearing one, despite all of the participants agreeing that it is important to do so? Why are they motivated to only wear the gonchha on special occasions, why don't they want to wear one everyday? And if it is too hot in summer, then why don't they wear one in the winter? A clue is provided when Sonam refers to it as, "the dirty one!" The gonch/za is associated with the rural villages and farm work. Conceptualizing it in this way draws upon a completely different evaluative dimension, one in which it is associated with the "backward" past of Ladakh. In the resistance to wearing the gonchltu, and in Sonam's utterance, then, we get a glimpse of a second evaluative dimension at work, which is in conflict with the culture-fashion dimension. I call this the forward-backward evaluative dimension, and outline its contours in the next section.

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"BETWEEN PAST AND FUTURE"

Ladakhis often position themseh~es as "backward." They openly say things like "our place is BACKWARD," and "we are counted as BACKWARDS." "BACKWARD," for Ladakhis, means that "Ladakh lacks education, communication, and transportation" and that "the road remains closed during winter." Although being "BACKWARD" is resisted, it is never denied, rather it is a motivation to go "fo~wards."In response to feeling "backward," Tenzin, in the following excerpt, outlines a path for Ladakh to develop: Ladakhi moderator: What makcs you proud of Ladakl~? What makcs you feel Ladakhi, a rich cultul-eor the landscape, ur wliat? Teazin: O.I<.,firstly the comruunication of Ladakh is not a good communication, in the sense that [pause] it is isolated place, Ladakh should not be treated as a backward area or a remote area, either by the JPcK [Jammu and Kashmir] government or Indian central government. Ladakll is a part of India and should get proper status, should not be considered as a backward area and should get equal financial aid arid, actually they should spend more money on IAadakh,because tliey are earning from tourism The moderator asks the group about the good things in Ladakh. He is expecting to hear about the "rich culture." how eve^; Tenzin answers with a list of the things that Ladakh lacks. In this excerpt, it is accepted that Ladakh lacks many things, but the shamefill position of bachvardness is resisted by putting the onus on the Jammu and Kashmir state govcrnment to "spend more money on Ladakh." It is commonly believed among Ladakhis that Ladakh is backward, partly, because of inadequate help from the state government. Given this dissatisfactiori there is a widespread political movement within Ladakh that aims at independence from the state government of Jammu and Icashmir (van Beek & Bertelsen 1997; Wangyal, 1997). The desire is for direct funding from the central government of India-what is called Union Territo~ystatus (UT). It is believed that if Ladakhis get UT status they will be able to control their own finances and thus prosper-"if we get UT then it is the BEST" If Ladakhis get UT status, they say, they will build a "DEGREE COLLEGE" (university) so that Ladakhi students will not have to go to Kashmir or India to attend university, which many Ladakhis feel currently "spoils" the

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148 A. GILLESPIE

students, as they (particularly the women) are beyond the watchhl eyes of their families. An alternative way forward, according to some, is tourism. "If tourists keep coming," one Ladakhi says, "I think Ladakh will become fully progressed." Whichever way Ladakhis talk about ways to develop, they are guiding their actions by the forward-backward evaluative dimension. Within this discourse, the preservation of Ladakhi culture takes second place, and the emphasis is on economic development. Are the Villages Clean or Dirty?

The West is the iconic core of the representation of "forwal-d." There are rumours that in the West everyone has a car, and that if it breaks down, it is simply left by the side of the street, and the driver buys a new one. There are stories of machines that wash clothes and machines that produce a cooked meal, of incredible wealth, and of lots of shops, running water, greenery, and good education. But one aspect that stands out is cleanliness, which within the Ladakhi symbolic universe is linked to ideas of pollution and caste, and is thus particularly important. Using this evaluative dimension, Ladakhis feel dirty. 111 the following excerpt a rural farmer is describing life in the West: They certainly have clean l~ouses,as there is no one to make it dirty. Thcy do not have animals, no cow dung [for fuel], but we have to live in this atmo-

sphere [indicating the farmhouse] Rural Ladakhi homes have packed earth floors that produce dust, and they often cook over dung fires. The current trend for Ladakhis to build concrete floors and use gas stoves reveals the direction of their striving. They feel that the traditional floors are dusty and cooking with dung is dirty. But such attitudes are also challenged. A couple of Ladakhis said that in the West there is "so much pollution you can't see the sky." This idea may be an echo of tourists commenting on the masses of stars visible in the Ladakhi sky at night (though this is due more to altitude than lack of pollution). Also, consider the following response from an educated villager to a fellow villager who has just said that the West is clean: Clean in what sense? They have much garbage like cardboard packages, wrappers, and so forth. But they have less dust. It is because they have good roads to avoid it. But garbage-wise they are bad, and we are much cleaner. In this excerpt it is taken for granted that Ladakh is less developed, that it does not have comparably good roads. Instead, the resistance is based upon a distinction between garbage and dust. While Ladakh may

149

be dusty, he argues, it is not polluted like the West. Thus, in this excerpt Ladakh is privileged over the West. Dust is natural, but garbage is not. However, this Ladakhi, who became a good colleague, said to me at a later date that he suspected that the skin color difference between tourist and Ladakhis was a function of Ladakhis living in clusty houses and not washing frequently, This idea-which I only heard once-clearly reverses the positioning and again locates Ladakhis as somehow back~varcl.As mentioned elsewhere, these debates do not only exist behveeri speakers, but also within individual's own though processes. The funvard-back~va1-ddiscourse is used by Iadakhis to make distinctions bctwccn Ladakhis (some are more "fo~-rvard"than others) and to distinguish Ladakll as a wXlole from the West and from tourists (who are considered most "fonvard"). "Rack~vard,"the English word, is commonly used t l ~ r o ~ ~ g hIndia o u t and in Ladakh. It indicates a lack orwcalth, education, infrastructure, and health-care. "Foiward," its opposite, has as its iconic core, tourist life and life in the West. Being forward is desired, but it often mmcs into conflict with the goal oS preserving the culture, bccausc, as one Ladakhi said, "culture pulls us back." This tension between wanting to go "fo~ward"while also wanting to preserve the culture is onc of the main dialogical fault lines in Ladakhi discourse today. The backwai-d-forward evaluative dimension is quite similar to the tourists' distinction between dcvcloped and unrleveloped. Both ~osition Ladakh ancl the West on a tcmporal continuum, whcrc Ladakh is placed in the past and the West in the future, and where there is an inexorable movement, whereby Ladakh will eventually move into the future. The difference between Ladakhis and tourists is in their relative willingness to endorse the future stare as an ideal: most Ladakhis accept this evaluation, while tourists are more reluctant to invoke the West as an ideal to be strived for and are more comfortable with the tradition-modern dimension which privileges Ladakh over modernity. Ladakhis, for example often refer to themselves as "backward," while tourists never call Ladakhis "backward." Ladakhis also sonletimes speak of themselves as inferior or as less intelligent than tourists: no tourist overtly takes adopts this point of view. En this sense, although both dimensions offer tourists a privileged position, tourists are ambivalent about their privileged position and hesitant to accept it. Forwards or Backwards to Happiness? As rve have seen, Ladakhis debate within both the evaluative dimensions of culture-fashion and fo~warcl-backward,howevel; perhaps the biggest domain of debate occurs between these dimensions. The problem is

150 A. GILLESPIE

that culture-fashion and forward-backward are largely incompatible. For example, the ideal of going fonvard is challenged by the idea that it leads toward fashion, desire, and thus dissatisfaction. This is illustrated in the following exchange between old friends who are discussing what Leh was like in 1983when they left as students to study in India: I remember these roads were very empty, now see the DEVELOPMENT and the POLLUTION, is it DEVELOPMENT? Punchok: In 1983we had fewer things but people were happy. Now we have got electricity and everything but we are not happy Dorje: The more we are DEVELOPING the more we are unhappy Ladakhi moderator: Then, we had only 6 hours electricity! Angchuk: In that SITUATION people were different and according to the pmsent SITUATION people are different Sonam: In those days we had no STANDARDS8[i.e.,basic development] but now we have the STANDARDS

Becoming Other 151

,

ment was well rehearsed, and was glossed by the woman of the house as: "traditional on the outside, modern on the inside." However, every modern feature-especially the large fridge and Western toilet-carried a tinge of guilt, indicating that the debate was actually far from resolved. The conflict between these two contradicting evaluative dimensions, as it appears within indivicluals, is captured in the following excerpt:

Ladakhi moderator:

In this excerpt the debate occurs between the culture-fashion and forward-backward evaluative dimensions. The moderator begins by noting the "development" in Ladakh and then cluestions it. Punchok and Dorje take up the culture-fashion dimension, arguing, in line with Buddhist principles, that although there are more commodities there is less contentment. Then the moderator and Sonam emphasize the forward-backward dimension, stressing that then there was minimal electricity and infrastructural deveIopment. Angchuk takes up a position between the extremes, arguing that one cannot compare then and now, for everything has changed. The basic format of this debate recurs numerous times in Ladakhi discussions. What is at stake is quite hndamental to Ladakhis sense of who they are, where they have come from and what they should strive toward. Should they be abandoning their culture and embracing modernity? Or should they reject modernity, and return to the imagined simplicity of traditional life? The debate is so fundamental it is liable to paralyze action. Simple things like building a house become complex negotiations. One wealthy Ladakhi couple that I spoke to were drawing up plans for an extensive new house. As soon as i began to ask them about the details, the conversation turned toward the use of modern or traditional materials, and whether they would have a Western or Ladakhi kitchen. Their argu-

I

Ladakhi moderator: We are between past and f~iture Norbu: Yes, we ai-e hanging. We liavc been born both too early and too late. We don't know aboirc our own culture and we don't know Weslern culturc - we are just hanging Norbu feels that his generation bas been born "too late" to be part of the traditional culture that they fecl they should be presei-villg, and yct

I

born "too early" to be modern. Hc fcels that bis generation do not kno~v f~illyabout either their culturc or Western culture. As he states "we are just hanging." The problem for Norbu is that neither lie culture-fashion cliinension nor the fotward-backward cliillension offers him a privileged position. He cannot claim the position of being part or the traditional culture and he cannot claim the position of being foiward, for that is dominated by tourists.

MAPPING "ME" AND "THEY" POSITIONS

Mapping out the three evaluative dimensions that organize Ladakhi discourse, and the six subject positions that they constitute, produces Figure 6.1. There are four positions that Ladakhis can maneuver between: backw a d , fol-ward, culture and fashion. Tourists, on the other hand, can be There are also points where the positioned as either clthadpo or cl~l~z~gfio. line between tourists and Ladakhi blurs. Tourists by definition are forward, and Ladakhis strive to become foi-ward. The problem for Ladakhis is that this striving may lead to becoming either equivalent to a c l z h ~ ~ g l ~ o tourist or a clzl~~~dflo tourist. Those Laclakhis who are positioned as following the "fashion" are seen to become increasingly like clzlzadl~otouriststhey become "local Israelis." On the other hand, those who are moving foi-rvard are seen to be accumulating education and wealth, a bit like the chhugpo tourists. Interestingly, whether Ladakhis are moving fonvards or follo~vingthe fashion, they can be conceptualized as moving toward the tourist positions. That is, the iconic core of both "fashion" and "forward" comprises imagery provided by tourists.

152 A. GIUESPIE

Becoming Other 153 I

Figure 6.1. Ladakhi discourse about tourists and Ladakhis.

Each of the evaluative dimensions has its own internal debates, but there are also debates which arise out of the clash between the forwardbackward and the culture-fashion discourses. The problem for Ladakhis is that these dimensions carry opposite evaluations. If Ladakhis are forward they are denigrated for being fashionable; and if they preserve the culture, such as wearing the goncILha, they feel backward. This affectively loaded con~adictionhas a certain correspondence to what Bateson, Jackson, Haley, and leakland (1956) call a "double bind." Bateson et al. worked at the interpersonal level, by conceptualizing the double bind in terms of conflicting injunctions, For example, a mother might implicitly resist her child's search for affection while also scolding the child for not being affectionate. Bateson et al. speculate that such a pattern of communication can cause psychological disorders. The issue for Ladakhis, while not the same, is similar: They are socialized into coveting modernity, but are rebuked for becoming modern. The Ladakhi self, more than the tourist self, seems to be precariously poised. How can we explain this? Social representations research has theorized contradictory beliefs, or representations, at a sociogenetic level of analysis. For example, Wagner, Duveen, Themel, and Verma (1999) found that in Patna in India representations about modern psychiatry coexist with representations of traditional healing. Wagner et al. suggest that these representations are sustained in the different contexts. The traditional healing representation, they suggest, is sustained within the family while the biomedical rep-

,

I

resentation is sustained outside the family, in the public sphere. Might there be a similar expla~lationfor Ladakhis' double bind? Can we explain the coexistence of these two conflicting discourses in terms of different social contexts? Specifically, can we explain the persistence of both of these conflicting discourses by appealing to the coexistence of two different social acts? I11 chapter 9 I argue that this is indeed the case. The analysis wilI show how image of "me-as-backtvard" is sustained and reproduced within the social act of modernization, whilc "me-as-cultural" is sustained and rep-oduced within the social act of tourism. So far, in this monograph, I have psesented a complete description of the touring act. The touring act, like all social acts, can be observed fi-orn the outside and can be entered into and can be understood fmm the perspectives tliat arise within (Mead, 1934, p. 8). Chapter 4 presented nly ol~scrvationsof the touring act, distinguishing tourist-1,adakhi cncnunters, and articulating the dynamics of each type of encounter. Chapters 5 and 6 have presented the touring act from thc inside-fi-om the perspective of tourists and Ladakhis respectively. Our window into the pcrspcctive of tourists ancl Ladakhis has been quasi-naturalistic discussions, iepresentative of what tourists and Ladakhis might nor~nallysay among themselves, about themselves, and each other. Comparing tourist and Ladakhi discourse clearly reveals the perspectival nature of tourist-ladakhi encounters. While one can make a case for drawing comparisotls in the way that both groups talk about Ladakhis, there is a clear divergence in the way they talk about and positioli tourists. The traveler-tourist and the chhugpo-chhn(1fw discourses are in nlany ways oppositional. While tourists strive to live like Ladakhis, to use local transport and pay local prices, thc Ladakhis extend a positive identity to cl~hzrgj~o tourists, namely those tourists who are willing to pay more than Ladakhis and to tip generously. How is it that this disjunction persists and is perpetuated? Why does neither group take account of the other groups' perspective? Thus another question that the subsequent analyses will need to address is: Can this disjunction be made explicable in terms of the touring act? The following analysis (chapters 7, 8, & 9) will attempt to situate both tourists' and Ladakhis' discourses, their respective "me" and "they" positions, within social interaction. For example, the analysis will demonstrate that the traveler-tourist discourse and the rl1hrrgpo-cl7hadf10 discourse actually belong to different social acts. The traveler-tourist discourse inheres to tourist-tourist social acts (i.e., the self-narration act), while the chhrtgfioclfhadpo discourse inheres to Ladaklli-Ladakhi social acts (i.e., the guiding and senling acts). We will find that the Ladakhi "me-as-cultural" and the tourist "me-as-tourist-dupe" seem to be most closely related to the tour-

154 A. GILLESPIE

i n g act, which will lead us to the crux of o u r analysis: have these "me" positions been constructed by perspective taking within t h e touring act?

I I

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CHAPTER 7

FIRST ANALYSIS GENEALOGY

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Thcre exists a vely strong, but one-sided and thl~sunrnls~orthy,idea that in order better to understand a foreign culture, one must enter into it, forl i eyes of this foreigi~culgetting one's own, and view the world t h - o ~ ~ gtlie turc. This idea, as I said, is one-sidecl. Of course, a certain ently as a living being into a foreign culture, the possibility of seeing rile world tl~mugliits eyes, is a necessaty part of the process of understanding it; but if this were the only aspect of this understanding, it ~roulclmerely be duplication and would not entail anything new or enriching. Creative u.n,dersto~~clil~.g does not renounce itself, its own place in time, its own culture; and it forgets nothing. In order to understand, it is immensely important for tlic pcrson who understands to be located ozttside the object of his or her understanding-in time, in space, in culture. For one can not really see one's o~vnexterior and comprehend it as a whole, and no mirrors or photographs can help; our real exterior can be seen and understood only by other people, because they are located outside us in space and because they are oflters. (Bakhtin, 1986, p p 6-71 S o far we have followed Mead's advice a n d explol-ed t h e touring act from both the outside (observation) a n d from the inside (listening). Now it is time to move beyond t h e o b s e ~ ~ a t i o lof l s t h e touring act a n d beyond Becoming O t h e ~A : ~ TSocinl I I Interaction to SeZfRelecfion, 155-160 Copyright Q 2006 by Information Age Publishi~lg All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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the perspectives of tourists and Ladakhis by engaging in a more thoroughgoing analysis-toward what Bakhtin calls a "creative understanding." That implies an analysis that goes beyond the presentation of recorded data. It implies using a theory (in our case Mead's theory) to build up an interpretive framework that is outside the phenomena itself (i.e., the touring act). This is the most difficult aspect of research, for it is at this point that the researcher gives up reporting empirical data, either observed or heard, and begins to interpret that data facing perhaps the toughest of all methodological criteria: the need to be insightful without being implausible. The analytical question that guides the analysis is simply: Can we make the content of tourists' and Ladakhis' discourse about themselves and each other explicable in terms of the touring act? Specifically art: the various "me" positions a function of self taking the perspective of the other? Wr example, has Ladakhis self-reflective awareness of "me-as-cultural" arisen from taking the perspective of tourists within the touring act? We do not expect all the discourses mapped out in chapters 5 and 6 have arisen within the touring act in Ladakh. Both tourists and Ladakhis bring diverse preconceptions and symbolic resources to the touring act. This makes the analysis difficult. We are not looking for the creation of completely new meaning structures, sui genesis, but rather for the ways in which the touring act reconfigures and reconstructs extant discourses, and utilized them for new ends. The method of analysis is an extension of the genealogical method which is a method used to speculate about the origins of a discourse. The present chapter outlines the genealogical metl~odemployed, and the subsequent two chapters present the actual analysis. THE GENEALOGICAL METHOD

Mead was more concerned with theory than methodology. His methodological papers (Mead, 1917, 1929) are deeply theoretical and the empirical work that he was involved in is either unpublished (for example his work with Dewey in the Laboratory School, see Mead, 1910/2001; and Tanner, 1997) or bears little relation to his theoretical interests (Mead, Wreidt, & Bogan, 1912). In short, Mead provides little guidance as to how to explore his theory empirically. Accordingly, as was observed by Valsiner and van der Veer (1988), anyone wanting to tackle Mead's theory empirically is going to need methodological innovation. One way in which to trace the emergence of new "me" positions within the touring act would be to use longitudinal data. Such data would enable one to link together changes in the touring act with changes in the vari-

157

ous "me" positions. Although ideal in theo~y,this approach is simply not practicable for there is no longituclinal source of such data. The timekame required to collect such data would no doubt exceed the research career of any one researches. While using longitudinal data from the mass media could provide a viable substitute in different ciscumstances, it is not possible in this case because historically there has been a very li~nitcd mass media in Ladakh. Although there are a couple of texts, to which I will duly refer (particularly, Galwan, 1923), they asc not extensive enough to provide the basis for the analysis. My original research plan, for Ladakhi data, was to simulate longitudinal data by comparing group discussions from urban Laclakl~iswill1 rural Ladakhis, making the assumption that the discourse of rural Ladakllis is repi-cscntative of the past. Yselirnina~ywork with rural Ladakhis, ho~vever, showed that this assumption was quite naiive. To consider that rural Ladakh somehow indicated the past of urban Ladakh is simply to perpetuate the widespread representation (among both tourists and I2atlakhis) that Ladakll is a windo\v on tllc West's preindustrialized past. 'l'lie problem ~vitlilllis jdca is that l-ural Ladakhis are no less enmeshed with ~nodcrnitythan urban Ladakhis, or indeed tourists. R~ualLadakhis' discour-se is pernieatcd by the self consciurlsness of being outsidc modenlity, which by a contraly logic, sho~\~s just bow much a product of illodernity it is (see also, Yigg, 1996). Without modernity, i-ural Ladakhis could not have the identity position of "me-as-backwal-d." Rural 1,adakhis may wcll be a rnarginalizcd group, but they are not a piece of'histo~y. Considering thcsc constraints, the analytic strategy that I employ originatcs in Nietzsche's (1887/1956) genealogical method. The genealogical method provides an analytical procedure that develops a historical reconstruction from cross-sectional data. The aim of thc mcthod is to speculate about the historical construction of a discourse by looking within the discourse, at the structure and content of the discourse, in order to reconstruct the complex social processes through which it 11asbeen forged. "Giving a 'genealogy' is for Nietzsche," Geuss (199412001, p. 322) writes, "the exact reverse of what we might call 'tracing a pedigree.' " While tracing a pedigsee searches for a singular origin, to establish legitimacy ancl value, Nietzsche's genealogy exposes multiple, contingent, and contradictory dynamics which incline toward openness, rather than closure, and which tend to destabilize, rather than to secure. Ebucault has been a particularly prominent exponent of the genealogical method, and uses it to show the relation between power and knowledge. I, howevel; am not as concerned as Nietzsche to show either the contingency of histo~yor the fact that all social constsuction is "liberally sprinkled with blood" (188711956, p. 197). Rather; I am interested in his methodology. My concern is not the historical or political, but the social psycl~ological.Accord-

Becoming Other 159 ingly, I intend to appropriate the genealogical method to serve my own interests and theorize the social process that have produced both tourist and Ladakhi discourses. Nietzsche was a philologist by training, specializing in the reconstruction of ancient Greek texts from partial texts. Borrowing from this specialization, he analyzed the content and structure of nineteenth century morality, and then constructed a history that could account for that structure and content. While this ambition points to a distinctive type of analysis, his method is, by contemporary standards, mythical. Rigor can be brought to the Nietzsche's genealogical method by borrowing from the work of Bakhtin. Specifically, Bakhtin's (1986, p. 93) concept of "dialogic overtones" can help to systematize Nietzsche's ambition. For Bakhtin, every utterance is a borrowing from a past context. When discourse is employed in a new context, it carries with it traces, or dialogical overtones, of these past uses. He writes: The utterance appears to be Furrowed with distant and barely audible echoes of changes of speech subjects and dialogic overtones, greatly weakened utterance boundaries that are completely permeable to the author's expression... . Each individual utterance is a link in the chain of speech communion. It has clear-cut boundaries that are determined by the change of speech subjects (speakers),but within these boundaries the utterance, like Leibniz's monad, reflects the speech processes, others' utterances, and, al~oveall, preceding links in the chain. (1986, p. 93) The inside of an utterance betrays its own nuanced history. Boundaries that used to be between people reappear within the utterance. Utterances that used to be between people later arise side by side within the same utterance. Past speech is reformed, recontextualized and filled with new intent, but is never completely subordinated to a new context. I myself am reusing the ideas of Nietzsche and Bakhtin, I mix their words with my own. Combining the ambition to identify the social process behind a semiotic system with Bakhtin's idea that every utterance bears traces of its past, points toward the possibility of analyzing the content of a discourse in search of its dialogic overtones, and thus reconstructing the process through which the discourse has been constructed. Discourse can be conceived of as a network of more o r less sedimented voices. While Mead emphasized the tendency of these voices, o r positions, to become generalized and abstract, Rommetveit (1974, p. 59) emphasizes that they never become hlly generalized or abstract. Rommebeit's emphasis is important because it makes possible the tracing of the genealogy of a discourse back, through the voices that populate the discourse, to the social interactions that constituted the discourse. If voices are only partially sedimented into the discourse, then it is possible that one can

search for traces of those voices in order to identify them and thus identify which interactions sustain the discourse. This, then, will be our method.

DISTINGUISHING DIALOGICAL OVERTONES

In order to actualize a systematic search for dialogical overtones, we first need to bc clear about which "dialogic overtones" to search for. Bakhtin's focus was on others' voices as the sources of dialogic overtones. I will add to this the search for traces of social interactions, specifically any references to the touring act. A trace can be defined as any content that provides a clue as to the social process that either produce or sustain the given discourse. There are four traces that interest me: referenced traces, voices, echoes and symbolic resources. A "referenced trace" is any explicit mentioning of a social act, or a mass medium. I am particularly colicerned with the touring act, and thus 1 examine how tourists and Laclakhis talk about the sightseeing act, the photographing act, the house-visit act, the s e l ~ i n gact and the soulrenir buying act and so on. Examining these refercnced traccs providcs some indication of thc meanings that the act constructs in the lnincls of tourists and Ladakhis. Some such traces sho-rv how self analyses the actions of other in order to ascertain the meaning that self is making in the mind of othec For example, in thc contcxt of the trekking act, villagers and guides note how toul-ists somcti~nesrcact to village life as if it is dirty. Thus, I will arguc, thc trekking act may help to sustain the Ladakhi "me-as-backward." "Symbolic resources," as described in chapter 2, are semiotic elements drawn from the cultural stream, such as books, films, or narratives. It is with great frequency that tourists especially make reference to sylnbolic resources, such as what they have seen in a guidebook 01- film. When these are directly referenced, that is when the speaker names the symbolic resource, then rve have a clear indication about the origin of the given image or bit of knowledge. That a book or film is mentioned does not mean de facto that a given idea or image came from that book or film, but it is a clue and must be analyzed in conjunction with other clues and traces. A "voice" is a referenced quotation of othec By "referenced" I mean instances where the other is quoted explicitly as saying something. Voices are particularly revealing because they indicate most clearly the role of other people and groups in constructing new social knowledge. An exampIe of a voice is when a Ladakhi quotes a tourist as saying, "your culture is veiy nice, you should presei17eit." This voice of tourists, arising within the

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Ladakhis own discourse, provides an important clue to the social origins of the Ladakhi discourse regarding culture and fashion. "Echoes" are instances where there is no explicit reference to the voice of other, and yet there are indications that the utterance is a trace. A simple example of this is the fact that six times tourists mentioned, in discussion with me, that Ladakhi tea (black tea, milk, salt, and butter) "tastes better if one thinks of it as soup." This is a very specific remark; it must have come from somewhere, yet it bears no explicit trace. None of the tourists said they were quoting someone else, and thus none of the tourists referenced the source. However, a similar remark can be found in the Lonely Planet guidebook, Indian Himalaya (Mayhew, Plunkett, Coxall, & Greenway, 2000, p. 214), and even further back in the National Geographic (Abercrombie, 1978, p. 340). Thus I suspect that these six utterances are echoes of these references to Ladakhi tea which appear in these texts. Echoes are often difficult to identify with confidence, but can be revealing about the origin of a discourse. The following analysis is an attempt to identify the processes through which both tourist and Ladakhi "me" positions have been const~ucted.In order to pursue this emphasis on process, the analysis posed questions at DYO levels. first, questions were directed at the function of the trace. What is the meaning of the trace, in a pragmatist sense? What is this trace doing in the speaker's discourse? Why is the speaker mentioning this trace? What does this trace make possible in the discourse and thought of the speaker? The second level of q~lestioningconcerned what the trace might tell us about the social origin of the given bit of discourse or the given "me." Thus questions asked included: Whose voice is it? In which social act does it originate? And, if a symbolic resource is identified, where might it have come from? In trying to situate discourses, and different "me" positions, within diffei-ent social acts it is necessary to emphasizes that we do not expect to find a one-to-one correspondence. Content, once generated in one social act, may lift off becoming operative in the organization of other social acts. As social representations research has repeatedly demonstrated, abstract understandings may be objectified in imagery that derives from more concrete social acts. Thus, the process of interpretation cannot be rigorously formalized. Each trace needs to be analyzed on its own merits and within its specific context.

CHAPTER 8

TOURIST SELF AND LADAKHI OTHER

The tourist self has se~~eral facets. There is the privileged "me-a-traveler" and the denigrated "me-as-tourist-dupe." 'I'het-e is also an opposition to Ladakhis: "me-a-developed" and "they-as-undeveloped." And finally, tourists distinguish Ladakhis in terms of "they-as-traditional" and "theyas-modern." The question we now ask is: whcrc have these different "me" and "they" positions come from? Within what social acts do thcsc domains OF reflective awareness arise? To what extent can we situate these aspects of the tourist self ~vithinthe touring act? And specifically, do tourists' self conceptions, "me-as-traveler" and "me-as-tourist-dupe," arise through tourists taking the perspective of Laclakhis?

TRACES OF "THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN"

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Tourists in Ladakh confront inadequate infrastructure (intermittent supply of electricity and water), the possibility of sickness and the actualities of poverty. Itladequate sanitation and suspect medical facilities frighten tourists. In short, on a daily basis Ladakh discomforts tourists, leading them to position Ladakh as undeveloped, and leading them to assert the Becoining Other: An111 Social Inteinctioi~to SelfRelcclion, 161-178 Copyright O 2006 by 111nformationAge Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form resewed.

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efficiency and cleanliness of the so-called developed world. Thus at a most elementary level, we can say that because Ladakh does not conform to tourists' habitual standards, accordingly they are stimulated to invoke a discourse of development. Although elicited by the rupture of simply being in Ladakh, the discourse of developed-undeveloped clearly does not originate in Ladakh. This discourse is part of a pan-global effort to develop the so-called developing world, and it is a discourse with a long history. Accordingly, a close analysis of this distinction between "me-asdeveloped" and "they-as-undeveloped" is beyond our current scope. Nevertheless, the touring act is a new context for the reproduction of this discourse, and it intersects with this discourse in some interesting- ways. . A closer analysis of the use of tourists' positioning of Ladakhis as undeveloped, reveals that more is at stake than the material development of Ladakh. One common narrative arising within the discourse of developed-undeveloped concerns tourists' accounts of their visits to "remote villages." In these villages tourists often find themselves "showing off" modern commodities to local Ladakhis. Digital cameras, zoom lenses, GPS systems, and music players all become markers of modernity. When the tourist recounts these encounters, there is a tendency to revel in the awe of the Ladakhis. The Ladakhis, as animated in tourists' tales, cannot believe that sounds emanate "from such a small thing," and they are described as being entranced by video cameras. More than once, I have heard them exclaim that awestruck Ladakhis did not even know how to use a camera. Such narratives position Ladakhis as both less knowledgeable and as desirous of tourists' possessions, while positioning the tourist as developed. In these encounters, then, and in their narration, the developed-undeveloped evaluative dimension is continually being reproduced. Mali: I told them I have Walkman with speakers, and I told them "you can listen to Western music if you want" Ron: But, but when you leave they don't have this Walkman, and they will just keep thinking, "I must get this" Here we have a trace of the sightseeing act. Mali, while on a trek, visited a rural house. In return for the hospitality she received, she offered to show the family her Walkman: to offer them a glimpse of modernity. Arguably, Mali was being generous and sharing her resources. Reciprocal exchange is a social act that arises in many contexts. But in this particular instance, Mali is positioning herself as developed and "them" as undeveloped. Mali's impulse to share her Walkrnan and the voice of the Ladakhis echoed in Ron's utterance ("I must get this") seems to replay the narratives of early European explorers in which they tell of "natives" perplexed reactions to gunpowder, ships, horse riding, iron (Hezel & de1 Valle,

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1972). The idea that American Indians quaintly called trains "fire wagons" is still perpetuated (Knight, 1978). What is interesting in such accounts is not what they purport, but rather the recurrent Western preoccupation with the alleged awe of "natives." From a Meadian perspective this is unsurprising. It sustains Western claims to progress and technological sophistication and consummates these through the awe and amazement of others. Ladakhis, then, furnish tourists with a means to actualize their identity position as developed. Moreover, by sharing the fl-uits of technology with Ladakhis tourists are able to do this in a manner that is, at least ostensibly, charitable. Ron's critical reaction to Mali brings into play some older aspects of the developed-undeveloped discourse. He is worried that her denlonstration of hcr TValkn~anto the Ladakhi family will stirnulate modern and matcrialistic desircs-enticing thern away from the tradition pole toward the inodcrn pole. According to Ron, the Ladakhis will be trapped by acquisitive desire. Hcnce the voice of the Ladakhis: "I rnust get this." Such an utterance reverberates with Orientalism. 'The rcpl-cscntation of the Orient as timeless, or stuck in llle past, and oTQricntal people as akin to children has been described by Said (1978). Ron spcaks about the Ladakhis as if they were children who need to be protcctccl horn the illoderll \vorlrl, lest it should contaminate and crcate uncontrollable appetites ("they will just keep thinking"). Said (1 978) traces the gencalogical roots of the Orientalist discourse to its historical genesis in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries. Orientalism is deeply entwined with the age of imperialism because it provided the symbolic and moral mcans to legitimate the domination ol' colonies. Consider Rudyard ICipling's pocm "Thc White Man's burden." According to this poem the colonized are "half-devil and half-child" and it is the "burden" who need the help of colonial administrators. The point to make, is that then it was common to refer to many non-Europeans as childlike. While such sentiments are universally reject now, certainly among tourists in Ladakh, the sentiment persists in a nonconscious manner. Ron implicitly positions the Ladakhis as childlike. Ron's discourse, and the discourse of the tourists in general, ho\\7ever, is not simply that of Orientalism. While Orientalism provided a means to legitimate colonial intervention, Ron is arguing for nonintei~lention.For Ron the idea that Ladakhis might not be able to control their desires is given as a reason for concealing modernity from the Ladakhis. For Kipling the idea that most of the peoples of the world wel-e "half-devil and half-child" legitimized the imposition of the British Empire. Thus, we find the imperialist discourse of Orientalism utilized to a new end, namely, to protect Ladakhis from modernity. The paradox of Ron's position is that although he is trying to resist the claim that the west is supe-

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rior, he comes close to reproducing this attitude by virtue of his paternalism. Tourists' positioning of themselves, relative to Ladakhis, seems to have two sides. At face value, tourists resist any claim that Ladakh is inferior to the West-but acknowledge that it would be better off with improved education, health care, and basic infrastructure. This discourse is very matterof-fact, and does not deride Ladakhis for this lack. On the more covert side, there are traces of latent Orientalism among tourists. This usually manifests as an unreflected upon feeling of superiority. Tracing the exact genealogical roots of this discourse are, as mentioned, beyond the scope of the present study as they lead far beyond the touting act in Ladakh. However, as I have tried to sho\v, tourists are not simply reproducing the discourse of development, they are recreating it in new ways, to answer to their new situation.

GOAT HERDERS AND LIZARDMEN: EXPECTATION AND EXPERIENCE

Tourist debate, about whether Ladakhis are traditional or modern, must first and foremost be seen as a function of their expectations. Tourists travel to Ladakh expecting to find some instantiation of Shangri-La, they expect Buddhist villages and festivals, traditional communities, and happy peaceful people. What they find does not always conform to expectations, and it is this rupture that stimulates many of the debates that utilize the traditional-modern evaluative dimension. Borrowing from Boesch's (1991) terminology, we can say that tourists confront a should/is discrepancy. Most of the Ladakhis in Leh do not wear traditional dress, and seem to be more concerned with selling souvenirs and treks to tourists than with religious practices aimed at renouncing materialistic desires. From where does the expectation that Ladakhis "should" be traditional derive? It is clear that these expectations do not only concern Ladakh. When talking about Ladakh, tourists ate quick to make comparisons with other countries such as T~bet,Nepal, India, Indonesia, Chile, Colombia, Peru, Ecuador, Vietnam, China, Thailand, and Mexico. Tourists move searnlessly from talking about Ladakhis, to talking about T~betans, Maoris, Australian Aborigines, and Native American Indians. For tourists it is often as if all these peoples are manifestations of one type. That is to say, tourists are not talking about Ladakhis per se, but rather the idea of "traditional culture" which they expect to be instantiated in Ladakh. For example:

AG: So, tourism will erode culture? AIan: It depends how smart they [Ladakhis] are, because a lot of tourists want cultural experiences Sheila: But will it be a put-on, like the Maori people in New Zealand they dress up, they don't walk around in their grass skirts, they dress up at night, give a performance and take money Alan: But they are singing their native songs, and things like that. Miles: So they are retaining it Alan: Tlzey are retaining it in that respect, butSheila: It's a sho~v. Alan: But, whethcr thcy are retaining it for the right reasons. Here the topic moves seamlessly from being about 1,adakhi cultrrre to Maori culture, but for the tourists the issue is the same: Is it "a show" or are "they are retaining it for the right rcasons" (i.e., not a profit motive). Thus Ladakhi cult~ire,like Maori cult~ire,instailtiatcs a morc gcneric phenomenon, namely, traditional cultures confi-onting moclern tourism. This slippagc bet\veen Maori culture and Ladakhi culture is a trace pointing to ecluivale~lcein the tourist's mind. It indicates that when tourists appear to be talking about Ladaklli culture, they map actually be addressing traditional culture in general. It is this idea of a traditional way or lilc as opposed to that of modernity that tourists arc conccrncd with and Ladakh provides a vehicle for objectiEying this peculiarly modern idea. Let us look closer at the iconic core of tourists' expectation of traditional life-the goat herder. The following excerpt is from a discussion that 1 hacl with Matt, from the United States, who had just arrivccl in Leh. Matt was working for publishers of a popular guidebook, and was there to update the coverage of Ladakh. Yet, he seemed no more informed about Ladakh than other tourists. The discussion took place in the courtyard of a guesthouse with several other tourists joining in the discussion. Altho~ighMatt had never been in Ladakll before, and had not yet been to any remote villages, he still spoke admiringly of Ladakhi village life. I asked him if he would have liked to have grown up in a Ladakhi village: Matt: As long as you are not hungiy, not stanling, I mean its a tough life, but you are more with nature than you are in the States, you are really living by the seasons, and byAG: Is that a good thing? Matt: Yeah, I think so, its how we are meant to be, its how we started out as human beings, living with nature, its like the divide between the settled and the nomad world, they are sort of more the nomads, they herd sheep [. ..] We have so many things in America that distract us, there are so many things we buy, like,

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televisions, radios - you are so worried about money, itjust affects how you are, but here, when you are out on the mountain pass with the shepherds, and all you are thinking about is just like getting your sheep back to home, and getting a getting a good night's sleep and getting up in the morning Matt is invoking one of the iconic images associated with Ladakh, namely, the nomadic shepherd. For Matt, this image crystal1izes the utopia of a simpIe, authentic and stress-free life that is the opposite of contemporary American society. The depth of Matt's convictions is puzzling when one considers that he has never been to the villages and he has never even seen a Ladakhi herder. The life of the Ladakhi herder, however, is a real part of his environment. It is real enough to make him criticize his own country, and real enough to motivate him to go trekking in the mountains. So where has this image come from? The answer emerges as the conversation continues:

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I'm thinking about, I read a really interesting book about this, by Bruce Chatwin, did you ever read anything by him? [Orienting to AG] AG: Don't think so Matt: [...I His last book Songlines, it's like half fiction, half nonfiction, there is a whoIe section on nomads that is really interesting, things he witnessed and talking to the nomads, how they lived [pause] I guess that is why Ladakh interests me, it's that nomad life, it's life that has been going before settled civilization, it's how people were, going from place to place when the weather changed.

Matt:

The origin of the Ladakhi village of Matt's imaginings derives, at least in part, from the novel The Songlines by Bruce Chatwin. It concerns Australian Aborigines, and is structured according to a distinction between settled and nomadic life. It equates settled communities with the accumulation of material culture, which is harbinger of aggression and war. Nomadic people, howevel; are fictionalized as inherently peaceful. Matt imports this distinction and lets it structure his experience of Ladakh. In Matt's mind, Ladakhis and the Australian Aborigines are equivalent because they both participate in "life that has been going on before settled civilization." In fact there are only a few seminomadic populations in Ladakh and Ladakh has had "settled civiiization" for over a millennium. But, Matt is not talking about Ladakh as such. The idea of nomadic life "before settled civilization" would exist in Matt's mind, even if Ladakh did not exist. Ladakh is merely an opportunity for objectifying and instantiat-

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ing this idea. This image is sustained not just in Chatwin's book, but in innumerable other publications. This image is part of our collective imagination, or social representations, of traditional life (Dudley & Novak, 1972), which academia has not been immune to (Kupel; 1988). Matt, then, lives within an environment that has been collectively and culturally imprinted. Returning to the corpus of 462 tourist photographs that I collected, it is interesting to notice that there is not one image of a goat herdel; or a Ladakhi with animals-far less any nomads. What is going on here? Surely if the image of the goat herder is the iconic core of tourists' representation of traditional Ladakhis then the image should be pervasive. I suggest that the lack of photographic cvidcnce actually underscores both tlie importance of the irnagc and the role of the mass media in sustaining this image. I t is easier to conjurc thc image of a goat herder in words than it is to conjure one on photographic paper. It is perhaps in thc difference between what is photogl-aphed and the iinagcs that are generated through discourse that the most important images are located. It is remarkable that the core iconic image of the goat herder persists and pre\rails despzte the fact that most tourists are not able to olljectify this through p h ~ t o g r a p l Int ~ ~el-estingly, . howevei; both the Nrr tionnl Geographic (Al~er crornbie, 1978, pp. 356-357) and the Lonely Planet guidebook (Mayhew Ylunkett, Coxali, Saxton, & Greenway, 2000, opposite p. 129; opposite p. 273) have managed to find and photograph 1,adakhis tending thcir animals. Such irnages can also be bought in Leh, as postcards. Although the lived experience of Ladakh may dis~wptexpectations imported from the mass media, expectations also give shape to lived experience. Events, places, or ways of life read about in guidebooks and seen in films, organize the expcricnce of Ladakh. Numerous aspects of the tourists' environment are mass mediated, from factual information about where the bus station is and the height of nearby mountain peaks, to less factual information regarding the character of the Ladakhis and their place in the modern world. For example, one young British student who had never strayed beyond the precincts of the capital, Leh, was explaining in a discussion that the Ladakhis "have a strong sense of community." Leh stands at some remove from the idealized image of Shangri-La: it is a bustling city, with shops, hawkers, and persuasive souvenir sellers and is in the throws of rapid modernization as evinced by a massive increase in cars, concrete houses, and ~ubbish.The tourist industry has proved so lucrative that migrant workers from across India arrive in Leh for the summer months to work. With this in mind, I asked the young student here she saw evidence of this "sense of community" in Leh. She replied mentioned the film Ancient Fuf~wes, and then said: "if I had not seen that film [Ancient firfzil-es],I would

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not know how community it is." The utterance is interesting, because it conveys actual experience, yet the content of that experience is mass mediated. But expectation is not always successful at guiding experience, sometimes experience does disrupt expectation. Some visitors to Ladakh do not see "community" in Leh, and some do not manage to instantiate the image of the spiritual goat herder. Indeed, there are some who feel they have been cheated by Ladakhis-been charged too much for a tour or trek. How do such experiences disrupt tourists' expectations? And more particularly, how do tourists deal with this rupture. It is in response to this rupture, I suggest, that tourists have elaborated the image of the lizardman. The image of the lizardman, or shark, or tout, is a semiotic structure that eases the rupture-domesticating it, making it explicable. If a Ladakhi or a part of Ladakh does not conform to expectation, then by invoking the image of the lizardman, tourists are able to preserve the idealized image of the traditional spiritual goat herder. The image of the lizardman, then, protects the image of the goat herder from refutation. Within the touring act, then, the image of the lizardman serves a vital function. However, this image does not originate in the touring act. Although the rupture of Ladakh may stimulate the emergence of this image, it does not actually construct this image-it simply draws it into play. The terms "shark," "lizardman" and "tout" are heard among backpackers across the globe. Because the image is inextricable bound up with the absence of the traditional, so it is as pervasive as the traditional-tourists talk about touts and lizardmen in India, Indonesia, Latin America, and Thailand. As well as being part of social interaction beyond the geographical boarders of Ladakh, this concept also extends back in time. Packard (1989), for example, has shown how Europeans in South Africa in the early part of the twentieth century were employing the image of the "dressed native." Native Africans who were seen to leave behind their traditions, and become too modern were seen to become weak, unhealthy, and unbalanced. The "dressed native" was opposed to the healthy and natural villager. In Ladakh one can find the image of the lizardman used in the same way. Tourists speak of "modern" Ladakhis being "unbalanced," "not in equilibrium" and "corrupted" by the modernity that tourists brought to Ladakh. One tourist told a story of how he felt saddened by the sight of some Ladakhis getting drunk to the point of vomiting on "cheap Indian rum." One can see how "cheap Indian rum" objectifies the pernicious effects of an imported modernity-it is seductive, shallow, and destructive. Ladakh is a vehicle for tourists to objectify preexisting ideas and images about traditional life-"life that has been going on before settled

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civilization." The image is less a product of Ladakh than tourists' own cultural stream. Just as the early Jesuits ministering to Ladakh encountered "heathens," or as itinerant traders perceived the "dangerous mountain passes," so contemporaty tourists rept-esent Ladakh in terms of their own ambivalences about modernity. And when Ladakh fails in this task, when believing does not mean seeing, then the image of the lizardman is called forth to explain how traditional life has become cori-upted by modernity. The point, however, is that although both of these images are central to the touring act, to tourists' motivations and experience, neither of these can be said to be constructed within the touring act.

BECOMING THE OTHER TOURIST

As we observe whcn mapping out tourists cliscoursc about tourism, tourists are quite self-reflective and critical about tourism. Such arnbivaletlce, or even self-loathing, has been found in other researrh (MacCannell, 2001; PI-cbcnscn, Larsen, & Ahclsen, 2003). Many tourists that I spoke to referred to the liistory of colonialism and were strenuous in their cll'orts to laud Iadakh and Ladakhis. FIo~vevei;when talking about othcr tourists, there do not seem to be any norms of political correctness that aim at curtailing their scorn and denigration. "Me-as-a-tourist" is ridiculed for having only superficial experiences and having a negative impact. "Meas-a-traveler" is ridiculed for trying too hard to be anything more than just another tourist. There is no tourist "me" that is widely extended positive regard. The tourist self, then, is quite peculiar. How do these aspects of the tourist self fit into the touring act?

Photography and the Reverse Gaze?

The iconic core of the tourist dupe is the camera touting tourist photographing locals. The numerous references to this image obviously provide a trace leading back to the photographing act. Has this iconic core been consti-ucted within the photographing act? Has the image of the tourist dupe armed with a camera been constructed by tourists taking the perspective of Ladakhis? In the description of the touring act (chapter 4), the power of the reverse gaze was emphasized. The reverse gaze is the power of the Laclakhi photographee to constitute the tourist photographer as a tourist dupe. The dynamics of the reveres gaze, then, would seem to link "me-asa-tourist-dupe"' with the perspective of the Ladakhis within the photo-

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graphing act. The follo~vingexcerpt, from a discussion with British tourists, also suggests the link: AG: Betty: Norman: Carol: Norman:

Have you taken many photos? [Orienting to Norman]. Now be honest! [Orienting to Norman]. Yes, but, I'm nervous about taking people. Yes, people, I find difficult, I find embarrassing. I am really against pointing cameras at people, because it is like they are in a zoo, so I normally take photographs of the landscape ...its so zude and disrespectful.

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Ladakhis in a respectf~llmanner. It is disrespecthl, they argued, for tourists to photograph Ladakhis when they are working or in work apparel. However, if the Ladakhi subject is dressed in his/her traditional dress, then pfiotographs should only engender pride for Ladakhis. Accordingly, the suspicion of tourist photographers that has been noted in other cultures (Bi~lner,2005, p. 219; Cohen, Nil; & Almagol; 1992), while not absent, does seem to be much attenuated in Ladakh. Thus it appears that the reverse gaze, felt so powerf~~lly by tourists, is not in Tact a function of the actual perspective of Ladakhis. If tourists were in fact taking the perspective of Ladakhis they would, at least sometimes, feel good when taking photographs of, for example, a Ladakhi proudly wearing their traditional dress: they would recognize that they were giving a compliment, or a gesture of recognition, to their subject. Howevel; I havc found little evidence to support this. Accordingly, the iclea that the literally taking power of the reverse gaze over tourists steins from to~~rists the perspective of Ladakhis must be abandoncd in favor of a more subtle interpretation.

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Carol states that taking photographs of Ladakhis is embarrassing. Embarrassment is a social emotion, and begs the question: in whose gaze is she embarrassed? Carol, like other tourists, finds it embarrassing because of the reverse gaze and it is this that makes Noiman feel that such an activity is "rude and disrespecthl." That tourists are taking the perspective of Ladakhis within the photographing act, and becoming "rne-asa-camera-touting-tourist" is also supported by the range of strategies that tourists have for surreptitiously taking photographs of Ladakhis. Zoom lenses and quick snapshots are ways of avoiding the reverse gaze, and thus avoiding the perspective of Ladakhis that seems to cause such discomfort. When caught in the reverse gaze, are taking on the actual perspective of Ladakhis? Do Ladakhis feel objectified and degraded by tourist photography? The simple answer is, rarely. Ladakhis are proud of their culture, they dress up in their traditional dress, and they join in various festivals partly for the benefit of tourists. Being photographed is understood in terms of preserving Ladakhi culture and promoting tourism. Indeed, compared to other countries it seems relatively rare for Ladakhis to ask for money for being photographed-though one could argue it is an increasing trend. The Ladakhi children like to be photographed, and there have been times when I have been with Ladakhis when the only polite thing to do was to take a photograph. As argued in chapter 4, byand-large, taking a photograph of Ladakhis, especially if they are wearing traditional dress, is understood in terms of valuing Ladakhi cutture. The most negative views that I have heard came from some young male guides who, fortified by some Indian rum, were encouraged to speak openly. One of the group provocatively stated that tourists visit Ladakh in the same way that they might visit a zoo. While some of his colleagues agreed, others strongly resisted the idea, arguing that tourists make an effort to learn Ladakhi, that they eat Ladakhi food and that they are interested in Ladakhi culture because they are bereft of their own. I have also heard reservations expressed about tourist photography from a couple of elderly Ladakhis, who questioned whether photographs portray

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Analyzing the exact nahire of what differentiates the tl-avelet-TI-om the tourist dupe in tourists' discourse, reveals a second set of traces that point back toward the serving act, or specifically, the b~~ying/sclling of souvenirs act. On several occasions, tourists laying claim to the position of "traveler," told of authentic encounters with Ladakhis where the tourist got "backstage" (MacCanaell, 1973), and had access to something that the avcragc tourist does not see. In the narration of these encounters it is important for tourists to add that the Ladakhi who showed the tourist backstage did so "but not with the interest of earning some money." If the Ladaklli were guided by a profit motive, then the encounter would not qualify as being an authentic one. To encounter a Ladakhi who is not interested in money has twofold significance. First, because the "real" traditional Ladakhi is not possessed of materialistic desires, this indicates that one has located the "real" Ladakh. Second, it suggests that one has been accepted on an equal footing by Ladakhis (i.e., not see simply as a wealthy tourist) and thus positions self as a traveler. Again .rue are dealing with the importance of the perspective of the Ladakhis for tourists. The power of the perspective of Ladakhis to constitute tourist identity is most evident in the cases where encounters are suspected to be tainted or inauthentic. The following exchange occurred between tourists when discussing their encounters with Ladakhi shopkeepers.

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Nick:

I wonder if they [the souvenir sellers] sit around and brag about how much they have ripped tourists off Ros: Yeah, when you are in the shop, trying to buy something, and there is two people talking Ladakhi together, I mean just in the middle when you are discussing the price and that, it's like now they are saying "ha ha, she is going to buy it at that price!"

This excerpt pertains to the social act of buying a souvenir. The fact that the Ladakhis are speaking Ladakhi rather than English opens up an unknowable blind spot that gives free rein to tourist paranoia and anxiety, and consequently demands reconstruction and domestication. These shopkeepers are "lizardmen," and they are attributed with the motivation of exploiting tourists. The ambivalence arising from the "ha ha" in this excerpt is suficient to cast this woman, self-reflectively, as a tourist dupe. Such a laughing attitude on the part of Ladakhis is particularly damaging to tourists' identity, because it indicates a distinctive failure in their enterprise. Most tourists travel to Ladakh guided by the alluring representation of a traditional Buddhist life, a life untainted by money and modernity. To be scammed by Ladakhis, then, means that the tourist has not only been duped, but has failed in their quest to find the "real" Ladakh. The laugh, then, constitutes the tourist as "rne-as-a-touristdupe." Are tourists taking the actual perspective of Ladakhi shopkeepers? As with the photographing act, in the buyinglselling act the evidence suggests that tourists are not actually taking the perspective of Ladakhis. As part of my ethnographic work in Ladakh, 1 spent considerable time with guides and souvenir sellers in order to discover the ways in which they manipulate tourists. One outcome of this effort was my discovery that there are far fewer scams than tourist discourse would suggest. Although there are certainly instances when tourists pay inflated prices, and it is very common for tourists to buy fake antiques and souvenirs, the salient point is that Ladakhis are not likely to laugh at tourists for doing so. Rather, they are more likely to regard such tourists as generous, as chhugpo. Negative evaluations, from Ladakhis, are far more frequent in relation to "travelers" who want to pay local prices (i.e., chhadpo tourists) and thus bargain excessively. Thus, in hindsight it is apparent to me that my own interest in the strategies that the shopkeepers use to profit from tourists was in fact part of the tourist preoccupation with being scammed. Not surprisingly, the knowledge I did glean from these investigations was very valuable in discussions with tourists. Tourists want to know about these "scams"' and, it is this interest which is more revealing than the actual scams. Tourists are often concerned with being ripped off, and

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being laughed at by locals, but again, this concern does not appear to originate in tourists taking the actual perspective of Ladakhis.

I

Whose Perspective are the Tourists Taking?

l i t h i n both the photography act and the buyinglselling souvenirs act, the perspective of Ladakhis is f~~ndamental-it is able to constitute the Yet, in neither case do tourists seem to tourist as "me-as-a-tourist-d~~pe." be taking the actual perspective of L.ac1akhis. From a Meacliat~standpoint, this is no surprise. Because there has been no position excllange, the basis for perspective-taking is limited. Tourists have quite patently never been in the position of bcing born into a "backward" community, of selling souvenirs to tourists, or being photographed by strangers who are relatively much wealthier. Thus, tourists simply do not have the necessary experiential content to generalize to Ladakhis-there is an experiential gulf between tourists and Ladakhis. So, whose perspective are the to~rriststaking? I want to suggest that tourists are committing a variant of the psychologists' fallacy. They confuse their own perspective on tourists wit11 that of Ladakhis. Or to be more precise, tourists mis-attribute their own perspective to Ladakhis. In the abscnce of knowing the actual pcrspcctivc or I,arlakhis, tourists simply assume that they must share their perspective. Tourists scorn tourist photographers and thus they assume that the Ladakhis do likewise. Tourists deride tourists who pay too much for souvenirs, or who purchase fake souvenirs, and so they assume that Ladakhis think in the san~eway. The discomfort that tourists feel when apparently taking the perspective of Ladakhis reveals more about tourists' own attitudes toward tourism than it does about those of Ladakhis. Caught by the reverse gaze, the eyes of the 1,adakhi demand subjectivity, and the only subjectivity with which the totlrist can endow them, is their own. Eq~ially,when in the sou~venir shop, and the shop assistants speak in Ladakhi, the tourist wants to put meaning in these words, and the only meaning they can put in them is their 01~11.Thus the tourists are their own experiences and attributing them to Ladakhis. If we want to find the social origin of "meas-a-tourist-dupe" then it is not with Ladakhis we should be concerned, but tourists: Where have tourists got this idea? Tourists Vying for Status I I

I

When we take a close look at the distinction between tourists and travelers and ask, within what social acts does it serve to coordinate perspec-

174 A. GILLESPIE

tive? We find that it operates between tourists-not between tourists and Ladakhis. The distinction behveen tourists and travelers gains its meaning within the self-narration act, within the vying that occurs between tourists, and in tourists attempts to position themselves favorably vis-A-vis one an other. The Lonely Planet guidebooks certainly employ a distinction between tourists and travelers. These guidebooks refer to their readers as "travelers" and promises to take these readers "off the beaten track." One of the ways it achieves this is by making explicit the beaten track which "tourists" folIow. Restaurants, guesthouses, towns, tourist sites, and tourist events are continuaUy evaluated according in terms of being touristy. For exampie, in relation to the festivals in Ladakh, the Lonely Planet authors write: The festivals often used to take place in winter, but many have now moved to the summer to coincide wilh another important part of the year: the tourist season. (Mayhew et al., 2000, opposite p. 241)

This excerpt does many things. It again underscores the influence of tourism on Ladakhi culture as distorting the culture. The tourists who attend such a festival are not getting an authentic experience, and more than this, they are contributing to the distortion of Ladakhi culture. I h a r is interesting about such statements, is not simply that they reproduce the traveler-tourist discourse, but that they constitute Ladakh for tourists. The following excerpt, from a discussion I had with a Dutch couple about one of the cultural festivals: Janet: Frank: AG: Frank: Janet:

It's their festival, they like it No its not their festival, their festival is in winter, I think Well they move them now to the summerFor the tourists! (-For the tourists!) Yeah I know

Janet, Frank, and I are echoing the Lonely Planet. Exactly the same information was traded in three other group discussions. According to my researches, the information is only minimally correct. Correct or otherwise, we ask why has it been taken up? I would suggest that its popularity derives from the fact that equips tourists with a resource by which they distinguish themselves, as a traveler, from the other tourists. Knowledge about which festivals are "authentic" and which are "for the tourists," like knowledge about local prices, local habits, untouristy vilIages, and restaurants, are propagated by the guidebooks and by word-of-mouth. This is because they are resources for self-making, or more ~reciselyfor position-

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175

ing oneself vis-his other tourists. In the above excerpt, Janet, Frank, and I are not only echoing the Lonely Planet, we are keen and quick to do so. Not to share in this knowledge is to become a tourist dupe. Tourists' concern to differentiate themselves from one another seems to have a relatively recent histoiy. There is little evidence for a travelertourist distinction during the eighteenth and ninctccnth centuries, when the trend among British aristocrats was to send their offspring abroad to tour the Continent, particularly Paris and Rome (Chaney, 1998). Travel would take several months and often involvc considerable hardship, reminding us of the etymology of travel (t~auail(Fr.), travail, torture). Within British society, the tour was a sort of rites of passage as well as a mark of class distinction. Having been on a tour was sometliing to bc proud of, not something to be ridiculed. It is possible, however; that the advent of mass toixrism which challenged the exclusivity of travel helped to instigate the distinction between ti-avcl and tourism. The advent of rail, Thomas Cook, and acmplancs have successively takcn the "travail" out of "travel." No longcr docs a trip to Paris or Rome take several months. Moreovcl; during the last half a centuiy there has also been a spectacular increase in the 11111nberof people traveling abroad for holidays. 111 1971 alrnost 7 million U.K. residelits traveled abroad for a holiday, whilc in 2003 just over 41 million traveled abroad. Xurism has becomc a mass phenoineuo~i.Tlle World Tourism O~ganisationcstitnates that in 2003 there were almost seven hundrcd million international tourist arrivals across tlie globe. Within thc climate of mass tourism, airlines struggle to maintain a scnse oTexclusivity (Thurlow & Jarvorski, 2006). Mass tourism, it seems, has debased the currency of the Grand Tour. In Bourdieu's (1986) terms, one could argue, the cultural capital that one can claim from tourism has been greatly reduced. Travel itself is not enough to distinguish one from ones' fellows, accordingly, those traveling have turned upon themselves, and now attempt to clistinguish themselves from one another. The way in which the traveler-tourist discourse operates behveen tourists is evident in the following excerpt. The excerpt contains the opening exchange in which I am trying to establish some rapport with a middle aged woman: AG: Cindy: AG: Cindy:

So, why did you come to Ladakh? 'Cos I wanted to take the bus ride, I wanted to see the scenery What had you heard about it? kvell you see I have traveled the Karakorams, I have traveled overland to Tibet by bus, I love the mountains, [pause] I heard Ladakh was a nice place, but really I wanted to make the trip

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176 A. GILLESPIE

AG: Cindy: AG: Cindy:

So you're going down by bus? Sure [laughing] I would not consider any other way! I took the bus once and I have flown every time since Well I think I am a hardier traveler than you, because I am a traveler AG: [Outraged] I am a traveler too! Cindy: Yeah, well, I am a hard traveler. Among tourists there is a clear hierarchy of modes of travel to Ladakh, from the most respectable to the most "touristy" these are local bus, tourist bus, private jeep, and aeroplane. To take the bus from Delhi takes 3 days minimum (but can take many more depending upon the weather), while flying takes about an hour, but costs considerably more. To travel by road, is to retrace the traditional trading routes, while to travel by air is to become naive to the sheer scale of the Himalaya. To properly appreciate the Himalaya, the argument goes, one must travel for days, up valleys and across passes. Cindy, who spoke with an American accent, was so attached to her identity as a traveler that when I asked her where she was from she said "everywhere." I pressed the question, and she explained that she had been a traveler for so long that the question of whei-e she came from was meaningless. From thc beginning of this exchange, Cindy is clearly staking a claim as a traveler. She has "traveled the Karakorams" and "traveled overIand to Tibet by bus." Cindy wants to put the "travail" back into "travel." Cindy's confident assertion that she is a "hardier" traveler than me elicits my somewhat outraged retort and counter-assertion that I too am a traveler. Being a researcher in Ladakh I was used to being accorded a respectful social position in the tourist pecking order. This is one of the ferv occasions when that privileged position was challenged. Even now, writing about this exchange, I feel the need to legitimate my reasons for flying rather than taking the bus. I will resist, however, for to protest is to collude in the game of positioning that tourists play, but the temptation is great. The issue at stake is recognition. And it is within this game of recognition, this self-narration act, that the distinction between tourist and traveler is most evident. "Me-as-aeroplane-tourist" becomes actualized, for me, in Cindy's perspective. And her "me-as-traveler" becomes actualized in her attempt to gain recognition for me. Both of these do entail the perspective of another, but it is not a Ladakhi other. Both of these "me" positions arise between tourists, within the self-narration act, by tourists taking each others perspective toward themseIves.

Position Exchange: Becoming Other

How can tourists, within the self-narration act, take each other's perspectives? IVllile there is little position exchange between tourists and Ladakhis, there is much position exchange between tourists. Accordingly, I suggest, that position exchange can provide the answer. No tourist can be a tourist all the time, and most tourists spend the vast majority of their time not being tourists. Every year millions of people step into the social position of tourist, and then a wcek or two later, they step out of it. Some people move between the social positioi~of tourist and rlontourist several times in a year. This fact is important because it rneans that in order to understand tourists' discourse tourism, we must also take into account the fact that these people will also be talking about the status of the tourist when not in tliis social position and thus at liberty to ridicule them without comprolnising their ow11 identity. All tourists-tobe Ilave previously been tourist observers at home. They havc bccn annoyed when tourists drivc too slowly or take up all the scats on thc train. They have laughed at the lost tourists, and puzzled at the popularity of torlrist sights. They have seen tourists cornc and go. '17hey have seen tonrist attractions created for profit. Anyonc who lives near an attraction will doubtless have talcs to tcll. The ridic~ileof the tourist othel; when self is a nontourist, also occurs in the mass media. The conGscd package tourist, on a bus tour of Europe, provides the butt of humor in the film Ifit's Ti(esday, Tlli~Musf be Belgi~~?~z. 'l'he film NafionuE Lanzl,oon'~ Elu.ol,eon I'acofion targets tourist ignorance and misunderstanding. I11 the popular Tinliu cartoons, Tompson and Thompson, provide recurring alnuselnent with their enthusiastic hut misguided attempts to blend into local culture. Ei-om the comfort of an armchair, or while seated around ones kitchen table, secure in the social position of not being a tourist, it is easy to ridicule tourists. The problem arises when one goes on holiday. Once abroad, positions are exchanged. The tourist-to-be, must take up the social position of being a tourist. Self steps into the previously ridiculed social position of the other. Several tourists, I suspect, barely realize that they are in fact taking u p the social position of the tourist. It is not an identity position that they identify with. Instead, it is quite likely that they maintain their habitual set of identifications, and observe that they just happen to be traveling, all the while believing that they are not "really" tourists. However, as their tour progresses they will find that locals and other tourists position them as tourists. Then the "me-as-tourist-dupe" becomes manifest. It arises through perspective-taking, for example the reverse gaze witllin the photographing act, but it is not this perspective that provides the content of the "me." The content of the "me" is provided by that tour-

178 A. GIUESPIE

ists' own ridicule of other tourists, either in actuality or in the media. The tourist becomes other to themselves, ostensibly by taking the perspective of the other, but at a deeper level, I argue, they are taking their own perspective on other tourists and applying this to themselves-thus they are led to react to themselves in the same way that they react to others.

CONCLUSION

Tourists' representation of self and other is a bricolage (Levi-Strauss, 1962), it is a patchwork quilt, drawing into play diverse images and representations. Tourists are embedded in a stream of culture, and out of this stream they are drawing upon the deep-seated discourse of Orientalism, upon discourses that are propagated in the media and in guidebooks. Our search has been for aspects of the tourist self that have been constructed within the touring act. The reverse gaze of Ladakhis can constitute a photographer caught in the act of photography as a "typical tourist." Yet, it is not the Ladakhi perspective, per se, that is fundamental to tourist discourse about tourists. Analysis reveals that tourists are not internalizing the actual perspective of Ladakhis, rather they attribute to Ladakhis their own perspective toward tourists. It is easier to assume the perspective of the other when one has been in the social position of the other. Tourists have never been in the social position of the Ladakhis. They do not know what it is like to grow up in a region that is widely described as poor and undeveloped, or what it is to be toured by those who are much wealthier and developed, However, tourists have both at home and abroad, seen and criticized other tourists. They have participated in the mass media's ridicule of the tourist dupe and they have their own tales to tell. It is this stock of experience from which they generalize when taking the perspective of Ladakhis. "Me-as-traveler" and "me-as-tourist-dupe,'' while they may arise when tourists take the perspective of Ladakhis, seem to be primarily located within tourist-tourist interactions. Tourists, when they meet, do jostle for status, and the traveler-tourist distinction is particularly potent in these interactions.

CHAPTER 9

LADAKHI SELF AND TOURIST OTHER

The Ladakhi self and the Ladakliis conccption of tourists is ol-ganized aIong three main dirncnsinns. For Ladakhis "me-follo~ving-cult~lre" as opposed to "me-following-fastiioa" is fi~ndaniental.While \vl-~eadealing ~vitlltourists they are more interested in "them-as-chh~cgpo"and "tl~cm-ascl~hady~o." The discourse that gathers about the fo~~vard-backward dirnension, is more oriented to\vards distinguishing Ladakhis fi-om tourists: "weThese different "me" and "thry" arc-backward" and "they-al-e-fot~i~ard." images repeatedly arise within Ladakhi discourse-these are relatively stable components of the Ladakhi self. The present chapter asks where have these components of the Ladakhi self come from? What is the historical origin of these "me" and "they" positions? More specifically, have these new aspects of reflective selfalvareness been constructed in the touring act? The vast majority of these self-images and other-images have not, unsurprisingly, originated in the touring act. Distinguishing the other in terms of profitability is hardly new, and the distinction between forward and backward obviously partakes in a discourse much larger than tourism in Ladakh. However, I do ant to argue that the Ladakhi "me-as-possessor-of-cult11re" has been greatly shaped by the touring act. Much of the present chapter is in fact a B E C O T IOthe,: I ~ ? ~ Aaut ~ Social Infemction to Self-Relection, 179-204 Copyrigllt O 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form 1-eselved.

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Becoming Other

close analysis, which while recognizing the multiple social origins of any "me," tries to situate this particular "me" within the touring act, showing how it comes about through Ladakhis reconstructing the perspective of tourists upon themselves.

TOURISTS AS "HUNGRY GHOSTS"

The immediate social origins of the distinction between cfthugpo and chhadpo tourists lie in the pragmatic function of this distinction. Tourism in Ladakh has created a rupture for Ladakhis, raising questions such as: Which tourists are going to bring the biggest profit? Which tourists will respect Ladakh? And, which tourists will have a negative impact on Ladakh? The chhugpo-chhadpo distinction provides Ladakhis with a discourse to frame and address these questions. It is a discourse that directs Ladakhis toward some tourists and away from others. It shapes the way in which they interact with tourists and, for example, the bargaining strategies employed. Ladakhis will go out of their way in order to work with chhu@o tourists, in the hope of gaining tips in the short-term, or maybe even a long-term friendship that can lead to sponsorship or romance. Nevertheless, the basic distinction (which partakes in the distinction between rich and poor, the pure and the corrupting) has a history that extends far beyond tourism. The rich-poor aspect of the chhzcgpo-chhadpo, without a moral loading, is clearly evident in Galwan's (1923) account of the tourists he met in and around Ladakh about a century ago. Galwan for example, distinguishes Europeans and traders in terms of "poor sal~ibs" and "rich suhibs." Galwan's concern is to distinguish explorers to facilitate his own interest in making money, and to a lesser extent, in terms of the prestige they would bring him through association. Today, the interest in making money from foreigners is sustained in the touring act. The relation that Galwan had with his European explorers is similar to the relation that Ladakhi guides today have with tourists from highincome countries. The tourists, although less ambitious than the explorers that went before them, want to trek and discover remote places. Ladakhi guides, who earn a living from guiding tourists, are also in a similar situation to Galwan. From a Ladakhi point of view the touring act is not primarily about sightseeing or meeting new people, it is about making money. And it is in the context of this interest that the distinction of tourists into those who are rich and those who are poor is usehl. It is a pragmatic knowledge that can assist guides in selecting which tourists to work with, how to interact with them, what to show and do with them, and how to encourage tips from them. Thus the rich-poor distinction is firmly

181

rooted in the touring act, and has a genealogy that goes back to the early interactions between Europeans and Ladakhis. But cizhz~gpo-chhadpodistinguishes more than wealth. The chhadf~otourist is looked down upon for satisfying him or herself with material and sensual pleasures. Moreover, this crass materialism is seen to be "spoiling" the young Ladakhis-tempting them away from traditional values and virtues. This aspect of the distinction is not evident in Galwan's (1923) text. For Galwan, a poor sahib is not necessarily a morally bad sahib. On the contra~yhe develops demonstrable respect for one such poor sahib. So where has this new moral aspect of the chh~~gpo-chhatl$o distinction come from?

Analyzing the way in which Ladakhis criticize the behavior of certain tourists and lifestyles from affluent countries reveals a distinct trace of Buddhism. Consider the follo~vingexchange, in which a young man f1-0n1 a 111ral village is asked by one of my Larlakhi colleagues, to describe America: Ladakhi moderator: Tsering: Ladakhi moderator: Tsering:

Describe America I have never been thcrc You can imagine what its like There it is a matcrialistic life, there is machincly for everything, even for making foocl, this is what I heac Now there is a gas system for cooking, this did not exist before, and they have a machine for washing CUPS and utensils. They have a vely busy life, thcy are never free always busy, they don't have time to spellcl with their family, they are vely busy with their own life, so America, it is very happy for a moment, all these things are happy for a short time, but not for a long time, so they have eve~ythinglike, they can eat what they like, but this does not make them happy [... ]This is why there should be pressure to preserve CULTURE

Tsering describes Americans as having "machinery for evelything" and "they can eat what they like," but "this does not make them happy." In order to understand Tsering's idea, that the f~~lfilment of material desires does not lead to contentment, we need to understand the moral framework of Buddhism. Buddhism maintains that desire is the basis of all suffering. Desires, the Buddha argued, are never ending; as soon as one desire is satisfied, a new desire arises. This never ending chain of desire, the Buddha argued, is the source of suffering because people are not ful-

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filled, but always wanting. Accordingly, the Buddha advised the renunciation of desire as a means of escaping the endless cycle of suffering, thus achieving contentment with the here and now. This basic understanding of desire and suffering is deeply rooted in Ladakhi culture. In the above excerpt we can see Tsering interpolating this moral framework in order to imagine life in America and particularly to imagine why this life is not good. For Tsering, the very fact that people living in high-income countries have fulfilled so many manual necessities, as facilitated by the advent of machines for making food and washing up, means that hrther desires have been created, thus leading to discontentment. Although Tsering does not say it, there is a widespread belief among Ladakhis that it is this very discontentment that motivates tourists' to travel to Ladakh. According to Ladakhis, people trapped within the circle of desire have a tendency to travel about in the hope that Iife may be better elsewhere. This is not to say that Buddhism is the only trace in the above excerpt. In the middle of Tsering's utterance one can hear the echoes of the timepoor cash-rich tourist urbanites-telling the Ladakhis about their "veiy busy life" without time to spend with their families. I have certainly heard tourists tell about such concerns to Ladakhis. But equally, the Ladakhis themselves are somewhat surprised by how busy tourists are-even though they are on holiday, they say, they are still busy going from gompa to gompa. One Ladakhi colleague informally described tourists to me, as "hungry ghosts." In Buddhism there are six realms of being: hell, semigod, animal, human, warring titans, and hungry ghosts. So long as an individual is caught up in desires, then, each time they die they ~viIlbe re-born within one of these realms. Those who have been proud and complacent are born into rcalm of the semigods, where pleasure is everywhere, yet the pleasure is transitory, for rebirth will lead into another realm. Those who have been ignorant of the path of Buddhism are born into the animal realm, where they are dominated by the base instincts. Those who have exercised choice and control are born into the human realm, where they are given the option to foUow the path of the Buddha. Those who have committed evil deeds in anger are reborn in the hell realm to a life of pain and suffering. Those who have been envious and filled with too much hubris are born into the realm of the warring titans. Because each of the titans is envious and ambitious, this realm is in perpetual war. Those who have been carried away by desire and addiction are born into the realm of the hungry ghosts. The hungry ghosts suffer insatiable hunger and thirst. One can escape the wheel of life, the cycle of birth and rebirth, by recognizing that the path out of all suffering lies in renunciation of desire as delineated by Buddhist teachings.

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The wheel of life provides a discursive-iconic semiotic system that can be used as a symbolic resource, to categorize and make sense of people and behavior. When my Ladakhi colleague described tourists as "hung~y ghosts" he was drawing upon a rich set of image~y.Hungry ghosts have a ravenous desire that is confounded by the fact that they have a mouth the size of a needle eye and a throat as thick as a horse hair, Accordingly, the hungly ghosts run about frantically, trying, unsuccessfully, to satisfy their hunger and thirst. Whenever they do manage to get a drink, the liquid turns to fire in their mouth, thus only exacerbating their thirst. In Laclakh there are various religious festivals which are aimed at temporarily placating the hungry ghosts, with ofierings of fine foods. There are three points of similarity between hungry gllos~sand tourists that merit our attention, First, both move from place to place-the h u n g ~ yghosts are never happy with where they are. Second, one is born into the realm of the hungry ghosts as a Lollsequence of desire and addiction, and chhadpo tourists arc dearly associated with addiction to alcohol, other narcotics and carnal excess. Third, hung~yghosts' dcsires make them gi-eedy, and rhhnrljlo tourists who drive a hard bargain and insist up011 paying no more than local prices are seen to bc somcwhat greedy and too attached to their wealth. Tsering's utterance also reveals something about the unconditionally positive evaluation that 1,adakhis havc regarding their culture-"me-aspossessor-of-ailt~irc."Tsering draws out of the descl iption of America, an implication: "This is why there sho~ildbe pressure to preserve CULTURE." Tlle opposite to the runaway desires of tousists and the West, is "culture." Within Tsering's utterance the "they" slides into the "us-in-thefiitui-e." Tsering's point is that if Ladakhis do not preserve their cultul-e, then they will become like the tourists. 'There is a choice to make, between the path of desire and the path of the Buddha. Extrapolating (more than tve should at this stage), it is tempting to say that if America is samsara (the cycle of desire, of birth, and rebirth) then Ladakhi culture is to be eq~iatecl with nii~rana. Interestingly, it is common knowledge among the guides that the Israeli women, while being the most chhadj~o,are also the most beautiful. As a key cl?hadfo image, they are usually described as scantily dressed. From a Ladakhi standpoints these women bring diseases like AIDS into Ladakh. According to Buddhism, objects of desire are deceptive, for desire can only lead to frustration. Thus, by applying the logic of Buddhism to tourism, it is clear that the most desirable tourist must also be the most pernicious. One could argue that most religious frameworks are suspicious of desire and temptation. However, I am not making the point that this is unique to Ladakhis, rather I am simply pointing out that Lada-

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khis seem to be using the moral framework that they have access to (i.e., Buddhism) in order to understand tourists. We are now in a position to return to the question raised in chapter 7: Why are the evaluative dimensions of chhugpo-chhadpo and traveler-tourist almost polar opposites? Why do tourists value travelers who spend little money while Ladakhis value chhugpo tourists who spread their wealth about? The answer is now quite clear. These two discourses pertain to different social acts. T11e traveler-tourist discourse inheres to the social act of tourists jostling for status in the self-narration act, while the chhugpochhadfo discourse works between Ladakhis as they coordinate to try and profit from tourists. The traveler-tourist discourse serves tourists' interests in authenticity and distinction, while the chliuglbo-chhadpo discourse serves Ladakhi interests in profiting from tourism (and avoiding the negative moral effects of tourism). There is no social act bemeen tourists and Ladakhis which brings these two discourses into confontation, and there is no position exchange that enables either tourists' o r Ladakhis' to perccive tourists from the perspective of the other. Thus we find that the divergence of perspective at the level of ideas, discourses and representations is sustained by divergent patterns of interaction.

FORWARD-BACKWARD: MODERNIZATION AND DIRT

"Me-as-backward" is a central component of the Ladakhi self. It is opposed to the West, which is conceived to be "folward." These very metaphors position Ladakhis in the past, and tourists and their countries of origin in the future. Being "backward" is something that most Ladakhis accept despite the stigma attached to it. Yet this important part of the Ladakhi self is largely beyond our remit, for the main social interactions that produced and reproduce this "me" are far beyond the touring act. We are dealing here with the pan-global project of modernization. Going "forward' means the improving of schools, transport infrastructure, irrigation, health services, communications, stable supplies of electricity and water, and a more general prosperity. The modernizing act in Ladakh entails Ladakhis working with NGOs (nongovernment organizations), the Indian State Government and the Jammu and Kashmir State Government. Together these actors collaborate to develop Ladakh, and thus simultaneously constitute Ladakh as "backward." This discourse is saturated with the voice of Kashmiri's and Indians. Indeed, Ladakhis often use the Urdu word, tarki, for development. And the English word "backward" (which one never hears tourists use) is common parlance within the pan-Indian project of modernization. Indeed, Ladakh is officially a "backward region" within India. It is prima-

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rily within these social acts and discourses that the Ladakhi "me-as-backward" exists. Nevertheless, the totiring act does contribute some content and affect to this "me." Specifically, the sei-ving act, when looked at from a Ladakhi perspective, can contribute to "me-as-backward," endo~vingit with some distinctive resonances. In the creation of these new meanings, Ladakhis are taking the perspective of tourist, but as we will see, tourists are not explicitly giving Ladakhis tl~eir~~erspective. Tourists are more keen to talk about the culture of Ladakh than its lack of development. But the contribution of the serving act is not in terms of what is said, rather we are dealing bet-t: wit11 infercncc, Illlintended consecluetlces and soirie misunderstanding. Let us begin with Goffrnan's (1959) distinction between expressions "given" and expressions "given-off."' The expressiveness of ~ l l ei~~dividual .. . appears to involve two radically different kinds of sign activity: the expression that he gives, and the expression that he gives off. The first involves verbal symbols or their substitutes tvliicll lle uses admittedly and solely to convey the information that he and the othcrs are known to attach to these symbols. This is comm~micatiotlin the traditional and narrow scnse. The secoilcl iiivolves a wide range of action that others can treat as sy~nptomaticof the actor, the expectatioll being that the action was perfbrmed for reasons other than the information conveyed in this way. (1959, p. 14)

There are two charitlels rlirougli which tllc perspective of tlie other can be ascertained, through what the other says and through what the other does. Often there is a disjunction between what people say a n d do. People are likely to tailor what they say to their aims in a given context. Ho~veve~, it is mol-e difficult to contl-01 one's actions in the same way. Accordingly, when ascertaining the mind of an other it is often prudent to place more emphasis on their actions rather than their words. People do this in eveiyday life. As Norbu (chapter 6, p. 138) said when questioning whether tourists respect Ladakh: "we cannot take people's sayings SURELY." Goffman, however, gives his own example: Knowing that an individual is likely to present himself in a light that is favourable to him, the others may divide what they witness into two parts: a part that is relatively easy for the inclividual to ~nanipulateat will, being chiefly his verbal associations, and a part in regard to ~vhichhe seems to have little concern or control, being chiefly derived from the expressions he gives off. The others may use what are considered to be the ungovernable aspects of his expressive behaviour as a check upon the validity of what is conveyed by the governable aspects.... For example, in Shetland Isle one crofter's wife, in serving native dishes to a visitor from the mainland of Britain, ~vouldlisten with a polite smile to his polite claims of liking~vhathe was

Becoming Other

eating; at the same time she would take note of the rapidity with which the visitor lifted his fork or spoon to his mouth, the eagerness with which he passed food into his mouth, and the gusto expressed in chewing the food, using these signs as a check on the stated feelings of the eater. (1959, pp. 18-19) Tourists, when they visit a traditional Ladakhi home, are analogous to the visitor from the mainland described by Goffman. While tourists talk admiringly of Ladakhi "tradition" and "culture," Ladakhis pay close attention to the expressions that the tourist gives-off. Such attention reveals that while tourists usually speak in to "you-as-possessing-tradition" they sometimes inadvertently act in such a way as to position Ladakhis as undeveloped. It is through these expressions given-off that tourists contribute to Ladakhis sense of "me-as-backward." For example, recall the case of Mali in chapter 8 (p. 1621,who rewarded the family who provided her lodgings with the sound of her WaIkman. Some tourists, when in remote villages, give out pens and gifts. While exchange is an important means of establishing reciprocity, and in the context of a language barrier, even communicating, these particular exchanges are likcly to have the unintended consequence of positioning Ladakhis as lacking and tourists as living in abundance. To give a gift is to position the recipient (Haas & Desran, 198I). The expressions given off can also be vely subtle. When tourists are visiting a traditional Ladakhi house, and their gaze is fully absorbed in the novel and exotic surroundings, they forget that the gaze of the Ladakhis is equally fixed upon these new and exotic creatures seated in their kitchen. While the tourists look at the pots on the shelves, the portrait of the Dali Lama, the seats on the floor, thc open stove, the pile of dung or wood, the stored food, the dusty floor and the smoke stained ceiling, the Ladakhis notice that the tourists are slow to drink the Ladakhi tea, that they are not comfortable sitting on the floor, they note what tourists choose to photograph, and what they point out to each other how they talk about what they see. One house visit that I participated in as part of a trek (the guide regularly took his tourists to this house) resulted in eight of us tourists squeezed into a small kitchen. Three Ladakhi women tried to churn butter amid the flashing of the cameras against the darkness of the room. These women certainly noticed when (other) tourists started photographing the holes in the kitchen wall, which, in the windowless room, created picturesque rays of light caught in the smoke from the dung fire. They also noticed when a number of our group had to leave the crowded kitchen because they felt they could not breathe properly due to the smoke. And finaIly, when they cleared our tea cups away they noticed

187

that there had been more polite sipping that genuine consumption of Ladakhi tea. Like the crofter's wife, Ladakhis obsellre tourists' reactions to the food, to yak cheese, tsafnfia (barley flour), chhas~g(a cloudy, sour beer made from barley) and Ladakhi tea (green tea, milk, buttel; ancl salt). Quite noticeably, some tourists will not even consume these offerings for fear of food poisoning. From a Ladakhi perspective, ref~tsitlgcan be interpreted as a "looking down" upon the food and its creator or may suggest that one is perceived as polluted or dirty. Some tourists will try these foods and drinks, but it is rare that they can actually conceal their lack of enthusiasm. Three times I have been with gl-oups of tourists on a trek, and on each occasion I have witnessed tlie group purchase local beer (chhnng) horn villagers (as directed by the guidebooks), ancl on each occasion I have seen initial enthusiasm turn into the awkward disposal of the bcel; so that the group can get back to drinking I
188 A. GILLESPIE

of food poisoning. Accordingly, few tourists will drink the water provided free in restaurants, offered in local houses, or found in mountain streams. Instead, they prefer to purchase bottled water that has been transported over the Himalaya. The labels, incidentally, often boast a picture of a Himalayan mountain stream or make some other reference to the purity of Himalayan mountain water. Recently, there has emerged an alternative to imported water. Dzomsa, a Ladakhi NGO, boils Ladakhi water in large vats, under pressure, for ten minutes, and stores the water in "sterilized containers. Tourists can now refill their water bottles from these containers for a small fee. In either case, however, whether tourists drink imported water or boiled water, the fact is that when in a village or in a Ladakhis house, they are not drinking the water offered to them. While tourists may have quite legitimate reasons for such behavior, the impression that it creates in the minds of Ladakhis is quite different. Although Ladakhis know that Ladakhi water might make tourists sick, it is impossible to separate this from the meanings that surround drinking water in Ladakh. Within the Ladakhi caste system, the separation of drinking vessels is a primary pollution practice. Even young, educated Ladakhis who decIare themselves liberated from "backward" beliefs will not drink water from the cup of a low caste person in public (in private, however, some do share drinks). On the other hand, sharing drinks is an important means of establishing equality and mutual acceptance. When friends gather in winter to drink clzlaang and talk, they will often use just one glass between them. Exchanging the glass is a means of accepting and being accepted. Thus, when tourists refuse to drink Ladakhi water this can make a distinctive impression in the minds of Ladakhis. The meaning "given off" is anchored to sociai-cultural knowledge of pollution and caste, and seiyes to promote, even if at an unconscious level, the idea that tourists think Ladakh is "dirty" o r "polluted." Summarizing this analysis, it appears that Ladakhis' "me-as-backward" does gain some meaning within the serving act. Although this "me" is predominantly reproduced within the modernizing act, the serving act does contribute some particularly meaningful resonances. Within the serving act tourists, by virtue of their actions, position themselves apart from Ladakhis and Ladakh. This, we can speculate, contributes to the Ladakhis sense of being apart from the modern world, or more precisely, being behind it. The dynamics through which this "me" is constituted within the serving act are particularly complex. At the level of talk, tourists would loath to position Ladakhis as "backward" or "dirty." However, they are less in control of their actions, and these actions make impressions in the minds of Ladakhis. One could also question the extent to which these impressions are conscious, but that is beside our current con-

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cern. Whether conscious or not, these impressions vely likely contribute to Ladakhis sense of "me-as-backward."

CULTURE-FASHION: "OUR CULTURE MUST BE GREAT"

Now we turn to the "me-as-possessing-culture" and "me-as-followingfashion" aspects of the Ladakhi self. Both of these "mc" imagcs, I suggest, are deeply entwincd in the touring act. Particularly, "me-as-possessingctrlture" is, I argue, constructed by Ladakhis taking tlie perspective of tourists. While "me-as-following-fashion" seems to be primarily located in interaction between Ladakhis, as a way of identifying those who are following the tourists rather than the traditions. "me-as-possessing-cult11rc" it is necessaly to Before we start a~~alyzing point out that, according to the available clocunients, this "me" is a recent construction. Simply put, I can find no evidence for a self-rcflcctive cliscourse arnong Ladakhis as the possessors of "culture" before the arrival of tourists. This "me" does not arise in Galwan's (1923) writings, in accounts of the histoiy d Ladakh (Rancke, 190711998; Kaul 8c Ka~ll,1997; Rizvi, 19831, nor in early Ladakhi politics (van Beek & Bertelsen, 1997).Yct, it is now one of the most salient aspects of the Ladakhi self. The historical emergence of 1,adakliis reflective awareness as possessors of "culture" is clcarly evident in their repeated calls for autonomy from the Statc Government of Jammri and Icashmir. Prior to 1842, \vhen Ladakh came under the rule of the Maharaja of Jarn~nu,Ladakh was an independent kingdom. Notable early agitations occurred in the 1980s and 1960s. In these early political agitations thcrc is a clear conception of Ladakh as a distinctive group of people with a distinctive histoly and pattern of life. Religious differences were also important: Jammu and Kashrnir is predominantly Muslim, while Ladakh is predominantly Buddhist. But, when one Iooks into the substance of these agitations one finds that the main source of discontent is Ladakhis self-perception as "backward." In these early political struggles Ladakhis agitated for development. Nowhere is there mention of the need to preserve Ladakhi "culture." Ho~veve~; if we look to the more recent agitation for more autonomy, we find the sudden emergence of "Ladakhi culture" as an i~ilportantsymbolic resource in arguing for autonomy. Consider tlie following statement of demands, made by Ladakhi nationalists, during agitations in 1989: Ladakh is not just another bachuarcl region of the countly. It is a region with a unique culture, typical geoclimatic conditions and a distinctive socioeconomic order, besides being a sensitive border region.. .. In demanding Union Territory, Ladakh's primary concern is to protect its identity. Under

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190 A. GILLESPIE

Kashmir's rule Ladakh has suffered enormous cultural onslaught from fundamentalist organisations of the valley. (cited in van Beek & Bertelsen, 1997, p. 53) The demand is autonomy from the Jammu and Kashmir government. This is not new. But the reason given is. The statement reads, "Ladakh is not just another backward region," but until the arrival of tourists "backwardness" had been precisety the reason for demanding separation from the state government. Now "Ladakh's primary concern is to protect its identity." Ladakh, the statement reads, has a "unique culture," and this culture is under threat: "Ladakh's primary concern is to protect its identity." The question is: Where has this new reflective awareness of Ladakh's "unique culture" come from? While the discourse of course participates in a global discourse of identity politics, I want to argue that there are distinctive features of this "me-as-possessor-of-culture" that only make sense when situated in the touring act.

Figure 9.1. Tourists from the siandpoint o f a Ladakhi child.

Photography and the GONCHHA

Ladakhis want to understand tourists' attitudes toward Ladakh. They question whether tourists respect or disrespect Ladakh and its people. They question why tourists choose to leave their high income countries in order to travei to Ladakh-a "backward" region? Given the language barrier between tourists and Ladakhis, and the significant perspectival divergence between them, Ladakhis rely heavily upon extralinguistic clues as to the perspective of tourists. One of the most visible and revealing expressions "given-off" is the choice of photographic subject. While the eyes glance quickly, the camera takes time to focus. While the eyes point toward that which is meaningful and meaningless alike, the camera only focuses upon that which is meaningful. From a Ladakhi standpoint, the camera is a window to the mind of the tourist. The salience of tourists' cameras, for Ladakhis, is clearly evidenced in children's drawings. While in a particularly remote Ladakhi village, a 2day hike from the nearest road, 1 was a guest at the local school. In the course of talking to a group of 12 children, between the ages of 9 and 12, I asked if they would each draw me a picture of a tourist. Their drawings are revealing. The only possession that is common to a11 the tourists depicted, apart from clothes, is a camera. All 12 drawings depict tourists either holding a camera, or in the process of taking a photograph. figures 9.1 and 9.2, both produced by 11 year-old children, are representative. In Figure 9.1 both tourists are wearing t-shirts, there is a backpack and a water-bottle,' and the woman is taking a ~hotograph.In Figure 9.2 the

Figure 9.2. Tourists from the standpoint of a Ladakl~ichild.

woman is wearing a dress that is short by Ladakhi standards and the man is carlying a backpack and a water bottle. Both of the tourists in this Figure have cameras, and the woman appears to be taking a photograph. In both figures the camera lenses are pointed toward the viewer and child who drew the picture. interests Ladakhis about cameras is not the possession of cameras per se, but what the camera reveals about the mind of the tourist. It is what the camera is pointing to that is important. Ladakhis, I suggest, notice tourists' cameras because these are an important way in which Ladakhis "read" tourists' minds and interests. Consider the following

194 A. GILLESPIE

graph all equally. So again, when considering the content of this "me" we need to take account of the perspective of tourists. The previous point about the phumet, requires a caveat. As mentioned, Ladakhi women tend to think of the phumet as more stylish than the sulma. Thus we must also recognize a motivation on the part of these women to be able to wear the phumet instead of the gmchha-they are exercizing their agency here. But this agency is framed by the constraints of the tourist gaze. These women are successful in this invention of tradition, I suggest, not because Ladakhis do not notice the difference (they do) but because tourists don't notice the difference. The term "gonchha" is a significant symbol. It is a term that binds together images and feelings from different perspectives. For Ladakhis the term gonchha evokes a complex of perspectives, images and paths of action. TraditionaiIy the term evoked the path of action that leads to the making the gonchha-spinning, weaving, dying, and sowing. Associations would have included the feeling of putting on the gonchha, the feeling of wearing it and the feeling of being protected from the cold. Doubtless individuals were attached to their own gonchha, seeing these as part of their identity and something to be cared for and repaired once damaged. While these historical meanings still persist today, they are now complemented by some new meanings. Today the gonchha evokes additional associations-it is something to wear on a special occasion, it is something to be proud of and which should be kept clean, and, it is something that will elicit tourists' photographs. What I want to underscore, are the meanings that have been forged within the photographing act. Most Ladakhis wear Western clothes sometimes and the gonchha at other times. Ladakhis notice that when they wear Western clothes tourists ignore them while when they wear the gmchha they suddenly become objects in the lenses of tourists' cameras. In this sense the gonchha has found a new consequence. But it is not simply the consequence of being photographed that matters. Photography, as argued, is window onto the tourist perspective, and it is the perspective of the tourist that gives the gonchha its new found meaning as an objectification of "culture." The perspective of the tourists is an "I" position, from which Ladakhis can get outside themselves, and emerge to themselves as "me-wearing-acultural-gonchhu." If you change the "I" position, then you change the "me." If the Ladakhis believed that tourists did not respect the gonclihu, that they thought it was primitive, then when Ladakhis took this "I" position upon themselves they would arise to themselves as "me-wearing-adirty-backward-gonchha." Indeed, some Ladakhis suspect this. In chapter 6 we found that some of the men in Leh question whether tourists travel in the attitude of visiting a zoo. And it is exactly these men who also refer

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to the gonchha as "the dirty one." Thus were there is ambiguity regarding the perspective of the other, there is ambivalence regarding the "me."

Music, Mons, and an Awkward "Me"

The irnportance of the perspective of tourists for Ladakhis self-awal-e possession of culture is clearly evident in the problematic relation between Ladakhi music and "tne-as-preseiving-culture." The problem for Ladakhis is that they conceive of Ladakhi music as an important part of their culture while, but traditionally all the musiciaris in Ladakh are Mons, or low caste. At cultural festivals one can see the Mom, who are playing the music, are always sitting to one side and they are invariably 01-1 the least comfortable mats. The vast majority of tourists, however, are unaware of this fact. But by virtue of paying entiy into cultural shows the tourists have indirectly brought incrcased wealth and prestige to the A*lons.Mons are now in high demand. Moreover, conscieritiolls X,adakhis, keen to PI-ese~lre their culture, now find themselves in a bind. Shoulcl they learn to play Ladakhi music? Padma: 1 think we should know how to play our own music, we saythat this is work for Mons, but when we are out of our count ~ we y will be INSULTED if someone asks you to play your CULTURAL DRUMS Norbrr: No it can't be. Rigzin: Every one cannot bc a drummer Tsogyal: We will tell them that this is done by the LOW-CASTE PEOPLE, work of SCHEDULED CASTE not our work Padma: Then how can you say it's your CULTURE? [...I Norbu: If someone asks us to show our CULTURE we will wear a gonchha and say this is our CULTURE, that's all It is interesting to consider how culture is constl-ucted in this excerpt as something that one shows to the other. The problem raised is what to do if someone asks to see Ladakhi culture, and asks to hear the traditional music. For Padma this means the music is part of the culture and thus they should learn to play the music. Horvevel; Norbu, Rigzin, and Tsogyal insist that this is not possible. They say that playing music is only for low caste people, and therefore they cannot do it. Norbu retorts that they can show the gon.cl~.ha. instead. Cultuse is something that the other asks to see or hear. Here we see how the meaning of "culture" is, in part, constructed gains currency within display for within the touring act. "Me-as-c~~ltural" tourists, that is, the sightseeing act.

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But the excerpt reveals more than this. It suggests that tourists have been impiicated in defining the that Ladakhi music is part of Ladakhi cufture. If the contents of "me-as-possessor-of-culture" were being defined by Ladakhis (at least middle and upper caste Ladakhis) then they would not have included music within its definition. It is not what they would choose to privilege-the awkwardness of the above excerpt attests to that. Accordingly, me must again speculate that "me-as-possessing-culturalmusic" has not actually been constructed by Ladakhis alone. Again our analysis must look tolvard tourists. By virtue of sightseeing and paying to hear Ladakhi music, I suggest, tourists have contributed to the definition of Ladakhi music as part of Ladakhi culture. Just like the photographing act has picked out the gonchha, so tourists paying to hear Ladakhi music has picked out playing music and endowed it with positive value. Within the touring act, Ladakhi music has value. Tourists not only pay to listen to the music, but they extend a positive identity to the musicians. For example, they are frequently the subject of tourists' praise and photograpl~s. But again the important element is not simply tourists actions toward Mom, but what those actions reveal about tourists' attitudes towards the Mom.

Sightseeing and the Gompa

Aside from the gonchha and the music, another element that Ladakhis closely identify with their "culture" and thus with themselves, are the Buddhist monasteries (gompa). Tourists spend a considerable amount of time touring the monasteries-as do Ladakhis. Several of the Ladakhis I met in more rural regions simply assumed that tourist were devout Buddhists. But those who have had more contact with tourists, come to realize that the monasteries have more than religious meaning for tourists, and accordingly, they come to see their own monasteries in a new light. Consider the following excerpt: Ladakhi moderator: Is it important to preserve culture? Phunchok: Yes, very important, because, more than Ladakhis, the foreigner knows more about Ladakhi culture than Ladakhis, even though we are in Ladakh, and still we don't know when Thiksey gompa was built. Like Chemrey gompa, Shey gompa we don't know, so we lost our culture The topic is whether it is important to presen7eLadakhi culture. Phunchok, who is from a rural viIIage but works with tourists, equates "culture"

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~vithknowledge of the age of the various monasteries and answers that it is important. The reason he gives is that tourists know about the age of the monasteries, while Ladakhis do not, and thus he argues, "we lost our culture." Now tlle question is, where does this content, the concern with the age of the monasteries, originate? In the sightseeing act, tourists ask questions and the Laclakhi guides tiy to find the answers. According to Ladakhi guides, one of the questions most commonly asked about Buddhist monastcrics is, "how old is it?" In the past, this question would have been of marginal interest to Ladakhis, who were more concerned with the Buddhist practices and teachings taking place at the gonipa.. However, from the standpoint of tourists who do not understand Buddhism, and have an interest in the premodern and authenticity, the main relevance of a go?~ij~n is its age. This links Ladakh to the past, allowing tourists to see it as an indication of life in the "Micldlc Ages." Whilc tourists may not understand its social function thcy can, at the vely lcast learn its factual history and this knowledge makes sense within the frame of their interests - many of the Buddhist mollasteries were indeed founded around the Middle Ages. Again our concern is not with tourists actual motivations, but with the impressions that their actions may have on Ladakhis, and particularly with thc impressions that the qucstion "how old is it?" may have on Ladakhis. Most Ladakhis do not know the age of the various monasteries, and thcy can feel inadequate when a tourist (with the help of a guidebook) infi)rms them of the date. Accordingly, Phunchok, who is a tourist guide, states "we lost our culture." This opinion is widespread. 111 Ladakhi schools, children al-e now taught about the ages of all the monasteries, and training courses rull for tourist guides also teach these dates. Indeed many of the guides study guidebooks like the Lonely Plnnet, in rvhich the ages of the monasteries are very prominent, in order to acquire these, and similal; facts. In constructing this aspect of the Ladakhi concept of "culture," the sightseeing act has been fundamental. The age aspect of monasteries was salient in the minds of tourists before it was in the minds of Ladakhis and thus ironically it has been tourists, not Ladakhis, who have expertise in this aspect of Laclakhi "culture." Tourists know more abo~ltthis aspect of Ladakhi "culture" because it originated in the mind of tourists. From a Meadian point of view, go?tz$a for Ladakhis have gained a new significant symbolic meaning. I11 the past they had relevance in terms of their social-religious function-places to seek spiritual advice, and places that \vould perform necessaly rituals. Traditionally they were conceptualized in terms of the rituals and sewices performed for the community, and the question of when the gonzfa was built did not arise. Today it has acquired an additional meaning, or resonance, as a marker of Laclakhi

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culture. And again, I suggest it is not tourists' activity, or the consequences of this activity, for Ladakhis that is the important ingredient. Indeed, that tourists value the age of the monasteries is of almost no practical consequence for Ladakhis. What is important, I suggest, is that Ladakhis perceive tourists to be valuing the age of the monasteries.

Trace of the Voice of Tourists

Perhaps one of the most convincing bits of evidence arguing for the centrality of the perspective of tourists in the constiuction of "me-aspossessing-culture" lies in the very term "CULTURE." Within the Ladakhi language there is not indigenous word for "culture," and accordingly, Ladakhis the reader will notice usually use the English term. This implies, as argued initially, that "me-as-cultural" is indeed a relatively recent Ladakhi "me," because otherwise we would expect an indigenous term for this "me." But more than this, the Ladakhis are using an English term which one can only suppose they have got from tourists. Where else does this term gain its meaning but within the touring act? lburists come to Ladakh, self-confessedly, to see Ladakhi culture. It is, I suggest, in the space between tourists and Ladakhis that this term has become meaningful. So, what does it mean within the touring act? It means what tourists want to tour, what guides should be showing tourists, what should be presented to tourists in performances and museums, and it means what tourists will pay to see. The term is actually needed within the touring act in order to coordinate the tour. Without this particular significant symbol, operating within the touring act, much of the touring act would break down. For it is this term that connects tourists' interest in tradition with Ladakhi practices and performances. Of course the term now has gained a widcr currency. As mentioned at the outset, it is an important term on the political scene. My argument, however, is that one of the most fundamental social acts within which Ladakhis' self-reflective conception of "culture" has been forged, is the touring act. Clear evidence for the constitutive role of tourists' perspective, rather than their actions, in constructing "me-as-possessor-of-culture" comes from an analysis of the voices within Ladakhis discourse. Ladakhis' conversations are alive with the voices of others, and many significant others are quoted. Within the quasi-naturalistic discussions one can hear Ladakhis quote the voice of Indians, the Buddha, the Dali Lama, acquaintances, Tibetans, and Kashmiris. But the most frequently occurring voice is that of tourists, which in itself suggests that tourists have a prominent

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position within Ladakhis' dialogical self. But what interests us is not so much the freq~~ency of these quotations, but the content. Typically tourists are quoted as saying something such as: "your culture is veiy nice, you should preseive it." Again and again, tourists are quoted insisting that 1,adakhis should presenre their culture. And sometimes, as in the following excerpt, where an urban Ladakhi moderator speaks to some rural women, their voices are used to legitimate the imperative to preserve Ladakhi culture. T h e Ilresterners say that Ladakhi CULTURE will be destroyed, and that our coin~n~~ility will be broken. IVe should feel that, truly! Our CULTURE must be great and good, and we must preserve it.

Thc topic here is the preservation of Ladakhi culture. l'he speaker is tiying to impress upon these women thcir ci~icialrole as custodians. 111 order to make this point lie draws upon the voice of the to~lrists,and lets that impact upon the women. Here, as in many evocatiotis, the attitudc oC the tourist voice is emphatic and even paternalistic. Tlie tourist voice says, "Ladakkli cult~11-e will be destroyed" and implicitly puts the onus of its preservatiorl on the L,aclakliis. While the speaker is sul-ely tiying to convince the women, the fact is that it is the authoi-itative voice of the tourists that he invokes-it is used to make "Ladakhi culturc" something of value. But more than being used, the tourist voicc also seems to have soine independence. It comes across as a chastising and itlsistent supcrcgo (the inti-ojected voice of paternal authority). The voice seems to create a sense of guilt. The voice seems in fact to be more about affect than i.ational argument. '17he voice, in numerous such instances, does not prcsent a logre be presei-ved, ical or reasoned argument for why Ladakhis c u l t ~ ~should yet it carries affective weight. The voice says: "your culture is vely nice, you should presewe it." The "should" is unambiguous, but the "veiy nice" is vague. $,lieseem to be dealing, here, with some sort of constraining or directing of value (Moghaddam, 2002; Valsinel; 2000). It seems that the voice of tourists is able to sustain a "should" even in the absence of any actual justifications. That is to say, the evahiative perspective of tourists is itself sufficient to create an imperative. Somehow, the "should" but not the justifications for this have crossed o17er into the Ladakhi symbolic universe. Then in the Ladakhi universe of discourse we find this imperative emphatically present, but unsupported. This, I suggest, demonstrates the essential importance of the perspective of the other. Even when the content of what the other is saying is obscure, the evaluation can be important.

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RECONSTRUCTING THE PERSPECTIVE OF TOURISTS

Clearly Ladakhis are taking the perspective of tourists, but how? Few Ladakhis have been in the social position of tourists; few have been abroad, ferv have toured a "traditional" culture, and few have experienced the economic power of tourists. In the previous chapter we were able to explicate tourists' "me-as-traveler" and "me-as-tourist-dupe" in terms of position exchange within the social acts of tourism, especially the self-narration act. Tourists can take the perspective of other tourists toward chemselves because they have been in the social position of those other tourists. But how are Ladakhis able to take the perspective of tourists in the absence of any substantial position exchange? Addressing this question leads us to an iinportant point. "me-as-cultural" has not been "caused" or "constructed" by Ladakhis taking the perspective of tourists. It is equally the case that the self-reflective awareness of "me-as-cultural" enables Ladakllis to take the perspective of tourists. The perspective of tourists, the "I" position, and the emergent Ladakhi "me" (i.e., "me-as-cultural") cannot be separated. It is absurd to say that one end of a perspective causes the other end. "Me-as-cultural" arises by Ladakhis taking the perspective of tourists toward themselves, and, imagining themselves as cultural is a means to take the perspective of tourists. We are dealing here with an evolving complex.

USING BUDDHISM AS A SYMBOLIC RESOURCE

Ladakhis are not taking the actual perspective of tourists, they are reconstructing that perspective. In order to understand how this works, we need to return to Ladakhis representation of tourists, particularly the iconic image of the hungry ghost (discussed above, p??). Ladakhis are using Buddhism, and anchoring tourists in the image of the hungry ghost. Buddhism provides a psychology for these ghosts: they have left the path of the Buddha, and accordingly they have runaway desire. Translating this to tourists yields: tourists have lost their culture, therefore they have runaway desires. This might seem implausible, but the idea that tourists have lost their culture is widespread. The logic is that it is because they have lost their own culture that they invest time and money to see the culture of Ladakh. Here we are equating tourists with runaway desire and culture with enlightenment, or nirvana. I am not suggesting that these equivalences are conscious, or even ubiquitous, but they do arise several times. Consider the following excerpt, which is from a discussion among rural villagers:

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Ok, now we are changing everything, forgetting our CULTURE and religion, one day when we get to that stage [equivalent to tourists], then we will also want to go back. After 2-3 generations, after 100 years all these CULTURE and religion will come back, every simplicity will come back, for example, norv we are normal, we need a telephone and we get a telephone, and we need vehicle, we get it and so one day we will go to America, so we can earn lots of money, we can get these things so we can also visit America. But all of these things will only give fn~stration,so that is why we need the simple life

Hew we have, at the level of imagination, posi~ionexchange. There is a slippage between Ladakh in the future and the West. The speaker begins by pointing out how everything is clianging in I,adakli, and how it is becoming more like the high-income cortntries that tourists come fi-om. She says that when Ladakh eventually becomes like those countries, then they "will also wan to go back-implying that the tourists want to go back. 'The speaker states that eventually Ladakh will become equivalent to America, and Ladakhis will "earn lots of moneyw-thcy will even be able and then to visit Atnerica. But, she warns, this "will only give fr~~stration" advises that "we need the simple lirc." America, which Ladakh is currently tending towards, is akin to sawuara (the cycle of desire and suffering, birth and rebirth) while Ladakhi culture is positioned beyond this realm, in nirvana. From a Ladakhi Buddhist point of view, it is obvious that once tourists have lost their culture, that they will have runaway desire, and consequently that they travel to Ladakh because they "want to go back." Here we see, at the level of imagination, how a Ladakhi is using Rrrddhism as a way of making explicable the perspective of tourists, and the nature of Ladakhi culture. The mechanism is by sliding positions between self and other: just like the Ladakhis "will want to go back," so the tourists currently do "want to go back."

Imaginative Position Exchange

While the vast majority of Ladakhis conceive of tourists as having a very positive attitude towards Ladakh, there are some who are more sceptical. Indeed it is probably fair to say that there is a good deal of ambivalence around the perspective of tourists. The tourists tend to say positive things, but as mentioned, their actions as perceived by Ladakhis often carry contrary meanings. Accordingly, we also need to account for this perspective. How is it that Ladakhis imagine tourists to have a disrespectfir1 attitude towards Ladakh? The analysis does not reveal any clear or consistent means that Ladakhis use when imputing a negative perspective

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to tourists. The following instance, however, is interesting because it demonstrates how Ladakhis engage in position exchange in imagination in order to imagine the perspective of tourists:

Ladakhi moderator: M U ,we have seen a lot of foreign tourists visiting Ladakh, now what do you think they think of us? [...I Rinchen: They are here only to see our culture, our deeds and our style of living, what we talk, what we wear [...] Because our culture is rich, but people are very simple Ladakhi moderator: Have you been to Delhi? Rinchen: Yes Ladakhi moderator: Have you been to a zoo? Rinchen: Yes Ladakhi moderator: Why do we go to a zoo? [pause] We go there to see how animals live, what they eat and what they drink? So does it mean that they consider Ladakhis as animals? Rinchen: Yes [pause] it is [pause], orDolma: They think we are animals? Rinchen: No [pause] our culture is rich that's why they come to Ladakh Rinchen is the moderator's mother, and the moderator takes the liberty of being provocative. He asks the group a question that he had discussed with me, namely, what do tourists think of Ladakhis. Rinchen gives the usual answer, namely, that tourists come to see Ladakhi cuIture. The moderator, of his own accord, then introduces the idea that tourists tour Ladakh as if it is a zoo. He tries to push this idea upon his mother and her friends. They are shocked, but on the whole they resist the idea. Rinchen firmly disagrees and insists that the tourists have a positive evaluation, insisting that "our culture is rich." The interesting point in this discussion is that there is position exchange. The moderator, in trying to be provocative, invites the group into an imaginative position exchange. He invites the group to think of going to visit the zoo in Delhi. Most of these urban women had been to Delhi zoo, and thus they were able to fill this position with experience and imagery. Then the moderator suggests that Ladakhis are like zoo animals. This means that the Ladakhis, when in the zoo, were in a similar social position to the tourists in Ladakh. These Ladakhis may not have been in the social position of tourists in Ladakh, but they have been to a zoo, and

Becoming Other 203

they use this to imagine the perspective of tourists. In this excerpt, the women briefly become other to themselves, and the mechanism is position exchange. Rather than taking the perspective of tourist per se, they take their own experience of having been in a zoo, and their own attitude toward zoo animals, and then they use this to reflect upon themselves. I711e resultant "me" is "me-as-a-zoo-animal." Unsurprisingly it is a discomforting "me" that is resisted and rejected. But it is the mechanism that I want to point out, namcly, position exchange at the level of imagination.

ORIENTING TO THE ORIENTATION OF THE OTHER

The presence of the other is analogous to an opaque and infuriating mirtnr: self is aware of a reflection but is the o111y one 127110 can't see it. Self wants to know the impression that sclf's cxprcssions make 011 the minds of otliers (Iellbeiser, 1949). The mere prcscncc of thc perspective of the other is a niptu-e, and as wilh all nipturcs, it stinlulates thinking, elaboration, and reconstruction. Ladakhis are troubled by the perspective of tourists-it is alien to them, and needs to be "domesticated" (Wagne~; 1994). The Idadakhis have not been in the actual social position of tourists, thus they cannot generalize thcir own experiences to understand thc perspective of tourist. Accordingly, they rrlus~draw symholic resources from their cultural stream, and use these as best they can. The maill resource that tourist are using to understand tourists is Ruddhism, but they also draw upon more contemporary experiences, such as visiting a zoo. Keconstnictillg the perspective of the tourists, I argue, contributes to the Ladakhi "me." Whcn Ladakhis reconstl-~lctthat perspective in terms of Buddhism, then they emerge to themselves as "me-possessing-cult~ire" while when they generalize their experience of visiting a zoo, then they emerge to tliemselves as "me-as-backward." These reconst~-uctionsoperate within the constraints of the touring act. That is to say, Ladakhis are not free to imagine the perspective of tourists in any way they please. These irnagini~~gs are constrained by what tourists are heard to say and seen to do within the touring act. Thus Ladakllis, in elaborating the perspective of to~irists,are negotiating expressions tourists give and give-off with available symbolic resources. The mail1 argument I have made, howevel; is that an important component of this process of creating "me-as-cultural" is Ladakhis taking the perspective of tourists. This is not to say that Ladakhis have no agency within this process. Ladakhis profit from promoting this "me-as-culturalw-they set up cultural shows, they arrange culture tours, they arrange kitchen visits, and

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they sell souvenirs. In all these ways Ladakhis profit from "me-as-cultural" and they have an interest in firthering this. My point, however, is that in order to exercise this agency, the Ladakhis have had to orientate to the orientation of tourists-they have had to take (to some extent) the perspective of tourists. Ladakhis must orient to the orientation of tourists within economic exchanges, within the serving act, when guiding tourists on "culture tours" and so on. Without orienting to the perspective of tourists within the touring act, Ladakhis would lose their agency I71s-his ' tourists. It is precisely because they can take the perspective of tourists, that they can mediate their own actions, and present themselves profitably to tourists.

CHAPTER 10

SECOND ANALYSIS NOTE 1.

Water-bottles appear in 6 of the 12 drawings. This is interesting because water bottles have very little pragmatic function within Ladakhi patterns of action. Ladakhis do not use water bottles like tourists do. So why have these been picked out? Why are they more represented than backpacks, moncy belts and sunglasses? One interpretation is that this points towards Ladakhis cognizance of the fact that tourists will not drink Ladakhi water (discussed above) and their anchoring of this in their orvn caste practices.

BECOMING OTHER

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"Reflection or reflective bchaviour," accorcliag to Mead (1934, p. 9 1 ), "makes possible the purposive contl-ul and orgar~isatio~l by the individual organism of its conduct." In self-reflection wc bccoine other to ourselves, we react to ourselves, and we guide our action from the standpoiilt of others. Mead equated such self-reflective behavior with "conscioiisncss" and "miiid." Thus, in his accouilt of self-reflection he is ans~veringto his overarching problematic, namely, "the problem of individual mind and consciousness." And it is to this problematic that we now turn. "Consciousness is an emergent," Mead (1934, p. 18) states, "far Trom being a precotldition of the social act, the social act is the precondition of it." Consciousness is not a Cartesian entity, it a movemellt of self-reflection, and that movement originates in the dyllamics of the social act. In the social act divergent perspectives interact, and in self-reflection the "I" moves between these divergent perspectives, thus becoming other to self, that is, self-reflecting. The theory of the social act is a theory of how the perspectives that interact in the social world come to interact within the individ~ial.I11 the following analysis I will tiy to make instances of both tourist and Ladakhi self-reflection explicable in terms of the touring act. Becoviing Othe,:. Aorr~Socinl Intemction lo Self-Relection, 205-209 Copyright 0 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any forin resewed.

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The previous analysis (chapters 7, 8, & 9) has shown how both tourists and Ladakhis construct the perspective of each other. The perspective of the other has been constructed in part through the touring act, and draws into play a wide range of synlbolic resources-from Buddhism to Orientalism. Nevertheless, the emergent bricolage does enable both Ladakhis and tourists to take each others perspectives to some extent. In the present analysis (chapters 10, 11, & 12) we build upon this first analysis, in pursuit of self-reflection. The question is: Do tourists and Ladakhis self-reflect by taking each others' perspectives?

LOCATING THE STREAM OF THOUGHT

Psychology has long struggled to find a method for examining thought. Since its inception, the assumption has been that mind, or thought, is internal. Operating on this assumption, psychologists used introspection as their first method (Lyons, 1986). The Latin etymology of "introspection" is literally "inward-looking." The idea being that the mind is private, and thus should be studied by the thinker "looking within," The method, although hugely popular, proved problematic games, 1884). Introspectionists do not have reference to a shared public object and thus, have great trouble resolving disputes. A famous dispute concerned the inability of introspectionists to agree whether imageless thought is possible. As Watson (1913) observed, disagreements tended to descend into personal accusations between researchers over who was introspecting properly, or with the greatest accuracy. Watson's critique cleared the way for behaviorism, and introspection as a method has almost completely disappeared. Or at least researchers have ceased reporting it in journals (Danziger, 1990). In actuality, I suspect, it is still widely used, all be it in an unreflective and unsystematic manner. Personal experience is both one of psychology's problematics, and a first port of call for most researchers, and students, when evaluating a theory. In a sense the present research is illustrates this. First, the problematic is self-reflection, and we share an understanding of this problematic on the basis of introspection. Second, when doing this research I certainly used my own experience as a tourist to evaluate the validity of various interpretations. Moreovel; I suspect the reader will use his or her own experience as a means of evaluating the plausibility of my analysis. However, although it lingers in the background, introspection cannot be our main method. We require data on self-reflection that is less mediated by preconception. One approach to studying thought objectively, advocated by the cognitive scientists Ericsson and Simon (1993), is protocol analysis. It has sev-

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era1 forms. In "concurrent reporting," subjects are asked to "think aloud" as they solve problems, and to avoid any attempt to explain what they are doing. The reports are not read as explanations of thinking, but simply as accounts of the contents of short-term memoly. From the standpoi~ltof Ericsson and Simon, who want to aggregate instances of the same mental process, it is prolAe1natic that subjects sometimes think aloud, and other times describe their tfloughts (i.e., have their thought as their topic), because, they argue, these are two different mental processes. born our point of vie~v,however, this veiy tendency of slibjccts to clescribe their own thoughts is intcrcsting, for it is an instancc of self-reflection. Valsiner (2003) has fi~iitfullyused "tliink aloud" data (collected by Capema, 2003) in order to study the construction of temporary semiotic hierarchies that illecliate goal-directed action (wllat I have been calling tlie thinking phase of a social act). Using an cxpcrilllelltal setting, univcrsity subjects were asked to point a gill at a screen, upon which images wcrc slio~vn.In responsc to each image, the sul~jectshad to choose whether to slloot the grin, and they wei-e asked to think aloucl while deciding. Here the subject is solving a problem, in real-time, and thc cxperimenter introduces ruptures, in the form of images. Ilnages or a gun-targct produced unproblematic sllooting, while images of normal pcoplc elicited no shooting. The ruptures wcre provicled by irnagcs of'Hitler and the Klu Itlux Klan. Deciding whether to'shoot in these cascs stimulated much thought, and tlie vcrbal reports coritaitl a transcript of these tliougllts, as they develop. While this data does providc a clcar window on the thinking that process, it is also problematic. Close analysis of the transcripts it is a mixture of thinking aloud, introspection and reporting, and justification oricnted toward the researcher.

ANALYZING TALK AS THOUGHT

Ericsson and Simon (1993) note, with a degree of surprise, that thinking aloud does not have a detrimental effect on task performance. Froin their point of view, this sliould be extra cognitive load on the system. Howevel; from a Meadian point of view, talking (externally or internally) is part of thought, accordingly, thinking aloud should not have any cletriinental effect on task performance. The point has been made many times (e.g., Markov5, 2003, chapter 4; Merleau-Ponty, 1945/1962, p. 180), but perhaps the most apposite discussion is found in Vygotsky. Vygotsky (19301 1994) reports tliat young children, who have not mastered the art of internal conversation, will spontaneously verbalize their thoughts, and, moreovel; telling them not to do so has a detrimental effect on task performance.

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Mead provides us with a reason for why there exists this close relation between talk and thought, especially self-reflection. Because we hear ourselves speak, Mead argues, so rve can react to our own words in the same way that we react to the words of others. Thus we become other to ourselves in the act of speaking. Mead gives an example:

o b s e ~ ~ a b trace-a le hesitation, a stutter, a too rapid change of topic, a gesture, an odd word, or some slippage. As Freud eloquently obselves: He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his finger-tips; betrayal oozes O L I of ~ him at evely pore. (190511959, p. 94)

One starb to say something, we will presume an unpleasant something, but when he starts to say it he realises it is cruel. The effect of what he is saying checks him. (1934, p. 141)

The individual who begins to make a hurthl remark hears their own thought progress. They hear the sentence form, and they can anticipate its conclusion. They hear the sentence as clearly as they hear other people speak, and in this fact, they also hear the hurt the sentence may cause. Reacting to herself, the speaker may interrupt herself, and break the utterance, or try to reframe the remark. In any case we have an instance of self-reflection, and the act is inextricably bound up with the talk itself. In this example we cannot separate the "mental" act of self-reflection from the verbal expression. The loop of thought extends to include the actual sound of the remark, and it is the reflexive nature d this sound, that facilitates the act of self-reflection. Given that our interest is in self-reflection, and our Meadian approach, it follows that we do not have any problem accessing our phenomenon. We do not need to use either introspection or talk aloud protocol in order to "get inside" the thought of tourists or Ladakhis. Ali we need to do is analyze normal discourse for instances of self-reflection. Within this discourse rve can analyze how speakers create ruptures for each other, how they begin to speak and then break off midway, and how they reflect upon themselves, commenting upon their own utterances. This implies conceptualizing talk as a stream of thought, and a discussion, as interacting streams of thought. These streams of thought are objective, and they reveal the "real-time" trajectory of thought. The discussion, because it has been recorded, can be slowed down, replayed and scrutinized. The data affords teasing apart the influence of other speakers, the social context, and the speakers own motivation on the developing stream of thought. In arguing that we treat talk as thought, I am not suggesting that there is a complete isomorphism. Speakers often have in mind things to avoid mentioning and thus actively inhibit the expression of some thoughts. Speakers may think about their interlocutor, without speaking these thoughts. All these aspects of thought largely escape us when analyzing talk as thought. But they do not completely escape us. It is actually quite difficult to completely suppress a thought, and it usually yields some

Nevertheless, given the potential disjunction between private thoughts and public talk, I have chosen to frame my own analysis ill terms of "selfreflection" rather than "mind," or "cc~nsciousness"-terms which Mead often used. These latter terms pertain more to private tl~oughtsand experiences, and in all cases it remains unsure as to whetl~ermy analysis accesses this domain. Howevel; the term "self-reflection" is not necessarily private. At least, when someone does self-reflect while speaking it seems difftcidt to ref~rtethat wc do have an insta~lceof self-rellcction. ANALYTIC STRATEGY

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Valsincr and van der Veer (1988) argue that rigorous reseal-ch on Mead's conceptualizatiol1alizatio1of self-reflection in tcrrns of the "I" and the "me" has been lleld up hy traditional methodology. Mlc need genuinely temporal data of the stream of thought, so that we can trace the inovemcnt of the "I" and the emergence of the "me." I argue that analyzing talk as thought can address this limitation. In self-reflection there is a dynamic emergence of a "me." The "mc" becomes the topic of discourse-it is the object bcing talked about. According to Mead, self-reflection occurs whcn self takes the "I" position of an other (i.e., the perspective of the other). The idea is that self becomes other to self by virtue of perceiving, or reacting, to self from thc perspective of the other. Thus, ifwe want to explore Mead's theo~yof selfreflection through empirical research, that research is going to have to focus upon perspective-taking. Accordingly, there are two directions from which we can approach the problem of self-reflection. Either we can begin by searching out instances of self-reflection and then analyze them to see whether they can be explained in terms of perspective-taking. Or, we can search out instances of perspective-taking and study to what extent they cause self-reflection. The follo-rvinganalysis pursues both of these avenues. The next chapter questions whether quoting the voice of the other leads to self-reflection, and chapter 1I, the last analytic chapter, begins with instances of selfreflection and shows how they can be understood in terms of perspective taking.

CHAPTER 1 1

INTERNAL DIALOGUES

Tourist-Ladakhi encounters do not end when both parties go their separate ways. Thesc encounters can continuc in the thoughts and discourse of both parties. Tliese encounters call give rise to internal dialogues-reverberations-which we can hear ~vhcnwe listen to both tourists' and Ladakhis' discourse. I am refel.ring to those instances whcn the voice of thc ather is invoked in tllc absence of the othel; when them is "inner" dialogue with the other yet the other is not pllysically present. In these instances the other has been incorporatccl as part of self. According to Mead it is this other within self that causes self-lrflection. The dynamic emergence of a novel "me" arises as tlie "I" takes thc perspective of the other upon self, and thus becoming other to self. When the "I" takes the perspective of "you" up011 "me," the11 the "I" is able to I-eact to itself fiom the standpoint of "you." Such an internal change of perspective, Mead theorized, origiilates in interpersonal exchanges of perspective occurring ~vithinsocial acts. The present chapter explores this theorized relation between perspective-taking and self-reflection. The question may be simply put: does perspective-taking lead to self-reflection? The form of perspective-taking that we focus upon is i~lternaldialogue, with is when the other is quoted. When the other is quoted it is the other within self that speaks. Analysis Becolrrhrg Other: Socia) I??teractio~zto Self-Relection, 21 1-228 Copyright O 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

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Becoming Other 2 13

shows, however, that the voice of the other, when it arises within the discourse of self, can have many consequences. It can be resisted, it can be accepted, it can be negotiated, and it can cause the dynamic emergence of a novel "me," that is, self-reflection.

APPROACHING THE QUESTION

When I began to sift through the discussions in search of instances of perspective-taking, I was confronted with a problem. Within the data the boundaries ai-ound perspective-taking are hzzy. When the speaker quotes what someone else has said, and especially when they do so taking on or imitating the person's voice and accent, then we can be confident that the speaker is taking the perspective of the other. When, for example, a tourist quotes a Ladakhi as saying "America is the place I must go," the tourist takes up the "I" position of the quoted Ladakhi. We understand that it is not the tourist who wants to go to America, nevel-theless, the tourist says "I" must go. Here, then, rve clearly have an example of perspective taking. But what about a Ladakhi who says simply "our CULTURE must bc great"? The genealogical analysis of chapter 9 suggests that the perspective of tourists is embedded in the Ladakhi concept of culture. And this particular quotation even uses the English word "CULTURE." So, does this "echo" also qualiQ as an instance of perspective-taking? Getting even more extreme, if one were to take a rigorously Meadian standpoint, one could argue that all talk entails perspective taking. Talk is the use of significant symbols, and all significant symbols have two or more perspectivcs necessarily embedded in their constitution. Hence the problem: if perspective-taking is everywhere, sifting through the discussions searching for instances of it becomes absurd. Accordingly, for the purposes of the analysis, it has been necessary to define perspective-taking in a limited way. Given the volume of discussion data, we have the luxury of using only the choicest instances, nameIy, direct quotation. These are not echoes of the voice of the other, but clear instances of quotation where we know who is being quoted. These instances are usually demonstrated by the speaker actually adopting the "I" of the quoted voice. In this sense, the present chapter is an analysis of the voices of the mind (IVertsch, 1991). Focusing only upon these quoted voices, I ask: How does the quoted voice mediate the stream of discourse? Does it cause any problems for that stream? Does the voice say anything about the speaker? Does the speaker, o r anyone else, feel the need to respond to that voice-to enter into dialogue with it? Does the quoted voice stimulate self-reflection? If so, what is the step-by-step build up?

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Pursuing the analysis in this way soon yielded an important finding: the quoted voice can be more or less uni-uly. In the majority of instances the quoted voice conveys the meaning intended by the speaker, and there is little stimulus for novel self-reflection. The interesting instances are when the quoted voice is unnrly, when it does not convey the meaning intended, when it destabilized the speakel; or when it conveys too much meaning. In these latter instances, which I term the renegade voice, we can indeed find the dynamic emergence or self-reflection through perspective-taking.

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THE LADAKHI VOICE I N TOURIST DISCOURSE

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When tourists quote Ladakhis they are usually cntirely in contl-ol of the Ladakhi voice. They irivoke the voicc of the Ladakhi without any unintended consequence, and thus genuinc intcrnal dialogue does not ensue -for genuine dialogue is, by definition, always unpredictable. The ventriloquated voicc of the Ladakhis is akin to a puppct, and the tourist is thc puppeteer. Tourists, for example, harness the voice of Ladakhis to say things such as, "I want to be a guide, I want to have my own tl-avcl agcncy," "America is the place I must go, America is where I will be a success, America, America," and "lets make a McDonalds!" Here, the voice of the Ladakhi cotlforins to and objectifies the image 01' the modern Ladakhi who is consumed by materialistic dcsirc. These q~~otations obey tourists' sepresentation of "lizarclmen," they convey an image of modern Ladakhis fantasizing about molley and the West. A different set of quotations give voice to the iconic core of the touris~s' representation of the traditional Ladakhi-the goat herdel: Within these quotations there is no mention of money, tourists or the west. The concern is solely with the pursuits of traditional life. The subjectivity of the goat hel-der is simple and untainted by corl-upting modernity or materialism. Frank: AG: Janet: Frank: Janet:

They look more friendly and peacefill Less stressed? Yes less stressed They are getting more stressed-that's for all the world They can sit around all day and do nothing, I mean they do things really slo~vly,I coulcI have been running all day, and they are like "OK lets get the goats"

The goat herder is fi-iendly, peacefill, and stress free: his/her mind is not dogged by the complexities of modern urbanites and does not have

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the desires that are objectified in the lizardman's voice. Janet also juxtaposes the goat herders' figure with her own. While she is busy, they "can sit around all day and do nothing." When a thought does enter the mind of the goat herder, it is as concrete and innocent as "OK let's get the goats." Although Janet does quote the voice of the goat herder, she does not enter into dialogue with this voice. The reason, I suggest, is because it conforms to expectation: it has said nothing new or discomforting. So far we have only looked at single quotations. But sometimes dialogues are reported. Yet upon anaIysis these too often reveal no genuine internal dialogue. Consider the following story narrated by a Swiss woman. The story derives from her trek into the Markha Valley. In order to enter this valley trekkers pass check posts where they are requested to pay a small fee for the upkeep of the area. The Swiss woman, after describing the approach to one of these checkpoints, said: The guide said "now they will check if we paid the fee"so he said, "tell them we paid the fee" I said, "no why shouId I tell them, you telI them" he said, this is very good, "no I am a Buddhist, I cannot lie, so you lie for me" [everyone laughs].

To lie for money is one element of tourists' representation of the modern Ladakhi, while truth-telling conforms to the image of the traditionaI Ladakhi. The clever guide, as presented in the story, manages to be modern within the constraints of being traditional. The point to makc, however, concerns the dialogue behveen the Swiss woman and the guide. She completely controls this ventriloquated voice, and consequently it docs not destabilize: it causes her no upset, and she feels no need to respond. In such reported conversations, I would argue, there is no creative internal dialogue and no evidence of self-reflection. The Swiss woman first speaks from her own indomitable "I" position ("why should I tell them") and then from the puppet-guides' "I" position ("I am a Buddhist"). Yet although the position of the first person pronoun, the "I" position, shifts no new "me" emerges. Given our interest in self-reflection, none of the above excerpts are particularly revealing or instructive. However, the analysis did find a subset of direct quotations which do seem to stimulate genuine selfreflection. These are instances in which tourists lose control of the voice attributed to Ladakhis. In these instances, the speaker is forced into dialogue with the voice of the other in order to try and regain control over the unintended meaning of the utterance. It is in these, relatively rare, instances that we glimpse the dynamic emergence of a new "me."

Illustrating the Renegade Voice: "Twenty Quid is Nothing to you"

The subset of voices that I want to consider I term renegade voices. These are the voices that say more than their aninlators intend. Renegade voices say things that their animators seem resistant to hearing. Let us consider one example in detail. A sensitive topic for tourists is heir wealthy and privileged economic status relative to Laclakllis. To be positioned as "me-as-privileged," especially in front of Ladakhis, is discomforting and is usually resisted. In the following exchange wc hcar thrcc young English women in dialogue with the voice of a Ladakhi who positions them as wealthy: AG: Sophie: Janet:

R11th: Sophie: Janet: AG: Janet: Ruth: Janet: Ruth:

Janet: Ruth:

Do thcy [Ladakhis] have misconceptions about the West? I'm sure, -we have misconceptions about hcrc also Eve~ybody,for example, this bloke today we were inquiring about a jeep back to Manali (Oh Ik'eah!) (That was really annoying) And we asked if he would give a better price What price did he give you? pI'~~enty dollars T~ientypounds Yeah, Yeah, and we said "can you not do it cheaper?" and he said "well twenty quid is nothing to you" He worked it out on a calculator and wcnt "that's only twenty one pounds" "It's nothing to you" And this made me really angly, because, - I mean, of course we are much richer compared to most people here, but we are still on a budget, we are still like students, in our count~y we still have to scrape by and stuff, and buy the cheapest stuff

This exchange is initiated by my question about Ladakhi misconceptions. Sophie is reflective, commenting that tourists also have nlisconceptions. The women then are reminded about an encounter they had with a Ladakhi who operated a Jeep. They begin to narrate the stoly in order to illustrate that Ladakhis do have "misconceptions about the West." The point of the story is that a Ladakhi travel agent asked for a high price, and when the women asked for a cheaper price, he said, "twenty quid is nothing to you." The women intended to demonstrate, for my benefit, that this is a "misconception." It is described as "annoy-

216 A. GILLESPIE

ing" and making Ruth "really angry." Alas, the Ladakhi voice cannot be dismissed so easily and Ruth interrupts herself suddenly to say, "I mean, of course we are much richer." The "misconception" is now recognized as containing more than a vein of truth. Ruth then tries to silence the renegade voice by recontextualizing her wealth-"we are still like students, in our country we still have to scrape by and stuff, and buy the cheapest stuff." However this attempt to deny that "twenty quid is nothing" fails, and as the conversation proceeds, the voice of the travel agent remains at large: Sophie: It was just the way he said it, like disdainful, like "of course you have twenty pounds to spend" Janet: There are different conceptions ofwhat is rich Ruth: It's just, when, I know when you buy things, I don't mind paying more than the people here pay, that's not the issue, it's just when someone says something like that to you The women move away from challenging the factuality of the travel agent's remark towards an attack on his rude attitude-"It was just the way he said it." The topic of Ladakhi misconceptions is neglected, and now, in my presence, the issue is to justify why the Ladakhi should not have said "twenty quid is nothing to you." He was like really Westernized as we11 It's not the kind of thing I would say to a millionaire (That's the thing) If I ordered an expensive drink and he said, "that's a bit steep" and I say "oh!, E don't know, 10 quid that's nothing to you," it's justRuth: I mean it's not a nice attitude to, kind of like, get off on ifyou are meeting people, I mean we would not say that to people here

Sophie: Janet: Ruth: Janet:

Sophie tries to undermine the moral credulity of her plaintiff, the travel agent, by categorizing him as a "modern" Ladakhi, describing him as "really Westernized as well." The subtext of this defensive plea is that if he were a traditional Ladakhi, a goat herder, he would have more entitlement to critique herwealth. Janet tries to curtail the renegade voice by imagining a reversal of social positions. But instead of taking up the Ladakhi position, she sustains her own position, and imagines being taken out for a drink by a millionaire. The interesting thing about this reversal is that it makes the implicit assumption that relative to the travel agent, these women are millionaires-which is exactly the type of "misconception" the reported utter-

Becoming Other 217

ance was meant to illustrate. The women have thus tacitly conceded to the persuasive renegade voice, and to a limited extent begun to accept this emergent "me-as-privileged" and to integrate it into their sense of self. Indeed, there has been a change from "me-as-poor-student" to "me-asequivalent-to-a-mi~lillionaire." Sophie: And it ~vouldbe different iFevelyone said that, do you know what I mcan, if they all said, "you can aflord that" you'd think "ok" but a lot of the shops we have been in, like the guy today he was really honest, he was like "this is how much it will cost you for a jeep" and we said "do we need to get more people" and he was like, "well, no it would be better for you if yo11 have less people because then you have more room to yourselves" and we were like "well, do we have to pay more?" and he was like "no, so don't botl~cr looking lor anyone else" you know, even though he ~vorrld be making more money out of it, and thal's more likc, I much prefer Ruth : (Yeah) Sophie: Evcn if he tries to fill it up Eventually, the renegade voice is silcnced by Sophie. She juxtaposes the l-ude travel agent with the next travel agent they met. Not satisficcl with tlic attitude of the first, thesc women found a second Ladakhi, a personification of the model-n-day goat herdel; who puts their comfort ahead of his profit. Herc we have an example of the opposition benveen the lizardman ~vhowants tourist money and the authentic Ladakhi. The image of the benevolent Ladakhi leads the discussion away from the topic of misconceptions. Why did the reported utterance "twenty quid is nothing to you" cause these women such anguish? From the standpoint of Ladakhis, "t~ventyquid" is nothing to clr.ltr~g!~otourists. Sometimes Ladakhis feel resentful that chhtigpo tourists bargain f~arclwhen they can afford to pay more. If there was a Ladakhi who spoke these words, he probably meant "you are chlutgfio so you should not be chhad$o," that is to say, "you are rich don't be mean." Maybe he thought that ''twenty quid" is equivaIent to 20 rupees (30p), as some other Ladakhis. Howevel; fi-om the standpoint of these women, to be expected to pay more is to be positioned as a tourist dupe, not a traveler; it causes them to perceive themselves as rich tourists detached from the local realities of Ladakh. Being positioned as a "millionaires" posits a gulf between the English women and the local Ladakhis.

Becoming Other 2 1 9

From a Meadian perspective this extended excerpt is important, because it does illustrate how the perspective of the other (in this case the voice of the travel agent) can lead to the emergence of a new "me." There is a discernable shift in the way these women conceptualize themselves over the duration of the exchange. That this shift may be temporary is inconsequential. The fact is that the renegade voice, framed within the above stream of discourse, does stimulate these women to reconsider their position vis-2-vis Ladakhis. Initially they are outraged at the idea that they are amue~ltrelative to Ladakhis while, by the end of the dialogue, they effectively concede their relative position as millionaires. When outraged their "I" position is that of students; when millionaires their "I" position becomes that of the travel agent-via the imagination of being taken out for a drink by a millionaire. That is to say, these tourists come to see themselves from the perspective of the Ladakhis-to see themseIves as cl~hugpo.

The Renegade Voice Contained Janet and her colleagues clearly have trouble dealing with the renegade voice of the Ladakhi travel agent. We saw how they tried to undermine the travel agent by positioning him as rude and "westernized" and then trying to place him in opposition to a more "honest" travel agent. Although these attempts to contain the renegade voice proved relatively ineffective, on several other occasions tourists have dealt with this renegade voice very effectively. The following excerpt illustrates such containment. It is also excerpted from a discussion on Ladakhis misunderstandings about the West. Frieda: They have the feeling that in our land it is easier, they say "Oh! Switzerland is beautifid, it's paradise!" they cannot, Ok, I agree I have a lot of opportunities, I have a good life, better there than here. But there are some things they don't see, that there are aho some parts that are no good, we are most of the time sad, it's only, "ah, he has money, I want to make more money, he has this car, I want this car" then we have to work a lot, a lot Karl: A Ladakhi cannot work 42 hours a week The voice of the Ladakhis is invoked as saying "Oh! Switzerland is beautiful, it's paradise!" The implication of this is that Frieda and Karl are particularly fortunate, certainly more fortunate than Ladakhis. The "me"

that arises for Frieda is that of being privileged relative to Ladakhis, and arguably, this carries with it the moral imperative that she should do something to help those who are less fortunate-othe17vise she may perceive herself to be selfish and lacking in empathy. The "me" that arises is, thus, threatening, and is similar to the "me" that threatened Janet and her colleagues. Frieda also resists this positioning, but her attempt to do so is more effe~tive. That we are dealing with a renegade voice becomes apparent ~ ~ h e n Frieda feels she must respond to that voice. Frieda invoked the voice of the Ladakhi in order to try to demonstrate the misconceptions that Ladakliis have about the West. But once Frieda gives voice to the opinion that Switzerland is "paradise," it bccomes a 1-enegade voice, and it convcys more meaning than Frieda intended. It does no1 so~uldas misconccivcd as Frieda intended. Indeed, she herself is compelled to address the v o i ~ e and concede: "Ok I agree," admitting "I have a good life, better there than hcrc." Once she has made this unanticipated concession, Frieda then tunls to silencing the voicc-to reign in the renegade voice. She docs this by arguing that in Switzerland people have too many rnatcrialist desires and that they work a lot. At this point, the woman's liusbancljoins in with a different responsc to the renegade voice. He tries to justify why life in Switzerland is "better." He says, "a Ladakhi cannot work 42 hours a week." Arguably this opinion, by positioning Ladakhis as lazy or unable to engage in hard work, has its roots in the discourse of Orientalism. However, for Frieda and Icarl this semiotic mediator is successful-it dissolves the guilt that the renegade voice made them feel for living in "paradise." After this intellrention, the direction of the conversation shifts. The trow bling "me-as-privileged-and-selfis11," appears only briefly, before being refuted and dissolved. The most rupture that the Ladakhi voice, or perspective, causes for tourists is when it positions them as unjustly wealthy and selfish: it makes them feel veiy uncomfortable. Accordingly, tourists in India have cultivated a diverse array of semiotic mediators to allay feelings of guilt for being relatively wealtl~y,Rumors abound about realth thy beggars, misspent money, lost opportunity, and laziness. These rumors all work to legitimate tourists' wealth, and circumscribe the imperative for tourists to share their wealth ~vit11Ladakhis. Howevel; the guilt is rarely completely assuaged by such narratives. Accordingly, tourists also contain h actions. For example, tourists give the voice of Ladakhis t h r o ~ ~ gtheir gifts to Ladakhis, sponsor Ladakhi children to attend school, and donate to local charities. These actions protect tourists against the voice of Ladakhis which arises in tourists' conscience.

220 A. GILLESPIE

Self-presentation After the Event (the Interview as a Social act)

What provides the motivation for silencing the renegade voice? These speakers are not fully in control of their words, and the meaning of each utterance can mature over time. Speech, in its everyday movement, is improvised and reactive, and as a consequence of this, quite short sighted. Its very spontaneity prompts people to say things that appear contradictory. We have seen, for example, that both tourists' and Ladakhis' discourse contains contradictory and ambivalent meanings. This fact has been observed many times before (Foster, 2001; Wagner, Duveen, Themel, & Verma, 1999). So why does the contradiction between the renegade voice and the voice of the tourist cause so much trouble? Why tourist do not simply accept this poIyphony? Why do they feel threatened by the renegade voice, and why are they so motivated to silence it? Privately people are not motivated to be consistent in their thinking. One can imagine that if a renegade voice arose in private thoughts that invoked a discomfiting contradiction, it would simply be ignored, rather than instigating elaboration and containment. But people are motivated to appear reasonable to others. Thus, if the "I" unwittingly invokes a renegade voice within a public group situation, then there is an implicit demand to resolve the contradiction. Thus, I suggest, the motivation for dealing with the renegade voice comes largely from the social situation. In the case of Janet and her colleagues, the women are, in part, orienting to me. I heard them quote the travel agent. Thus, they become aware that I may agree with him. Or, more precisely, that I may disagree with them. This meaning remains a latent potential, however, it has sufficient weight for the women to engage in some self-presentation. And so, in part, it is to me (and to each other) that they are justifying themselves: my mere presence (and the presence of each other) demands a reconstructive effort in order to resolve this potential contradiction. The renegade voice of the Ladakhi travel agent, and perspective of the group members mingle. This dissonance is not a cognitive state, but a social state. The attempt to contain the renegade voice is self-presentation after the event. The speaker cannot go back in time and eat her words. The uttered quotation exists as a brute fact in the world. The best the speaker can do is attempt to recontextualize the quotation, after the event, such that it conveys the intended meaning. Why does the renegade voice lead to self-reflection and the emergence of a new "me?" What is the step-by-step process underlying this form of self-reflection? The renegade voice gains its potency from the fact that the speaker hears the voice in the same way as others hear the voice. Within the social act of the interview, the speaker is able to take (to some extent)

Becoming Other 22 1

my perspective and the perspective of other group members. The mechanism here is what Mead called the peculiar significance of the vocal gesture (Farr, 1997; Farr & Anderson, 1984; Mead, 1912), namely the fact that the speaker hears the externalized voice in roughly the same way as the rest of the group. By externalizing the voice, by making it a voice in the world like any other voice the speaker makes it into something that they too can dialogue with. One can only dialogue with oneself if one has become other to oneself, and the mechanism for this is the vocal gesture.

THE TOURIST VOICE IN LADAKHI DISCOURSE

FVl~ilethe voice of Ladakllis within tourists' discourse rarely comments up011 tourists, the voice of tourists within 1,adaklii cliscourse often comments upon Ladakhis. The voice of tourists, within Ladakhi discourse repeatedly alludes to Ladakhis and Ladakh. 'X*ourists, for example, are quoted as saying that Ladakh is "great" in various ways. Laclakhis say: and "they [tourists] say that Ladakh is more fun/cornfortahle L~ltilj~o]" "they say that they will visit again." Yet wliile the quoted tourists are speaking about I,adakh, what thcy say is usually cl~~ite vague. We see this vagueness in Ladakhis' use ofwords such as "nice," "great," and "happy." I suggest this is a function of Ladakhis lleing able to understand the emotional tone of the tourists' perspcctive, but being unable to imagine or understand the postmaterialist (Inglehart, 1989) interests that shape their perspective. Nevertheless, as the following quotatior~swill show, even if t l ~ edetails are vaguc, the emotional tone resonates loudly. The voice of tourists within Ladakhi discourse is commanding, demanding, blaming, and shaming.

"Why do you eat Meat?"

It seems that both tourist and Ladakhi identity positions have points of sensitivity with regards to the renegade voice. Tourists, as we have seen, are particularly sensitive to Ladakhis positioning them as privileged or wealthy. Ladakhis, on the other hand, are sensitive about being positioned as modern and neglecting their culture. According to the tenets of Tibetan Budclhism, killing animals is wrong, but eating them may not be, especially if one says prayers for the animal so that it may be reborn into a better realm, such as the human realm. Traditionally, Ladakh has employed Muslim butchers, and vely few Laclakhis were vegetarian. Howevel; the tourist perspective, reinforced by popular films like Seuen Years in Tibet and Kundun, is that all Himalayan

222 A. GILLESPIE

Buddhists are vegetarians. Accordingly, when tourists see their guide eating meat they often make a critical remark, creating shame that lingers in the mind of the guide long after the actual encounter. Consider the following exchange between a group of middle aged well educated urban men: Norbu: All of us are aware how much we have changed, it is not like it used to be, so there is nothing [no culture] left to be proud about Stanzin: And sometimes I feel shame because tourists say to me, "you are Buddhist, you are following the path of Buddha, but you are eating meat" at that time I feel shame In this exchange, the topic is "changes in Ladakh," and that "there is nothing left to be proud about." Stanzin, a guide, augments this feeling of shame by invoking the voice of tourists who criticize him for eating meat. Stanzin reacts to himself from the perspective of tourists. The voice points out a contradiction between his beliefs and his practise, the dissonance between the ideals of Buddhism and his eating meat. From the perspective of tourists he is positioned as a bad Buddhist because he eats meat. The tourists' voice is oppl-essive, demanding, and shaming. Stanzin does not even try to resist. Stanzin simply concurs with the voice, and accepts this negative positioning-"me-as-a-bad-Buddhist." Although Ladakhis often simply submit to the persuasive rhetoric of this invoked tourist voice, there are instances when genuine dialogue emerges. In the discussions, there are times when Ladakhis feel they need to justify their actions, and thus they orient to and respond to the voice of tourists. In these attempts we can see participants trying to control the renegade voice of tourists. Let us return to Stanzin's group. After Stanzin confesses his shame, Sonam interjects: Sonam: But there is a very good reason for this, in the past there were no vegetables in the winter season Norbu: It is habit Phunchok: It is a convention, it is normal to eat meat Norbu: In the past the vegetation was very poor, and since that time people, we have become used to meat While Stanzin is willing to submit to the voice of the tourists, Sonam is not. He argues with the voice saying that "there is a very good reason" for eating meat, namely, that "in the past there were no vegetables in the winter season." Norbu and Punchok concur, that on the basis of this practical need they have established the habit of eating meat. While one might

Becoming Other 223

think that these arguments would be successful in silencing the renegade voice, the fact is that they are not. Sonarn interjects into the increasingly heated discussion: Sonam:

Ok, they say, regarding meat, "why do you eat meat?"-In this altitude, it is vely high, thanks to god I am still here, still exist, at that time how would thcy cxist, Phunchok: (At this altitude!) Sonaln: It is only possible with meat [...I then they say, "OK then you had less vegetables, but now you can eat vegetables, they come from Srinagar, Manali, Delhi" but tourists can live without alcohol also! Sonarn again invokes the voice of tolu-ists, "why do you eat meat?" and again the voice demands accountability. The argument that in thc past there were no vegetables is again advanced so too, that Ladakhis need to eat meat to cope with the high altitude. But these intei-ventions are insufficient, and the renegade voice I-etorts-"but now you can cat vcgetables." Today, vegetables arc available in Ladakh thi-oughout the yeac They arc imported fi-om Srinagal; Manali, and Delhi: thus, them is no excuse. This is a difficult argument to silence and Sonam, insteacl of tackling it directly, seeks to discredit the voice by. 'Tourists' predilection for bccr is well known, and for a Ladakhi beer and meat are similar because tlicy are both desirable but illicit sout-ces of pleasure. Sonam's plca is, in effect, that nobody is perfect: Ladakhis eat meat and tourists drink beer. Ncither should feel bad. Sonam's argument is successfiilly carried, it silences the renegade voice and the conversation moves on. But this act of resistance sccms to have set up a group precedent, or a norm, for resisting the tourist voice. Latel; in the same cliscussion, there occurs the sharpest instance of resistance that I came across. The topic of debate is structured by the desire to go fonuard, or develop, and the limiting imperative that Ladakhi culture must be preserved. As mentioned before, this clash behveen the culturefashion discourse and the forward-backward discourse is a common point of debate among Ladakhis. In the follo~~ing excerpt Punchok connects the imperative to presenre the culture with the expectations of tourists, and he resists: Phunchok:

Mostly, when the tourists come, the tourists say, "your culture is vely nice, you should preserve it" but we also want things to be easy Norbu: Yeah! We don't like to be animals in a zoo, you know

224 A. GILLESPIE

Phunchok: Some tourists come here just to see us in cultural dress, but we want change Here, the voice of tourists yet again instructs Ladakhis, urging that they "should" preserve their culture. The voice of the tourist seems to be animated by the Ladakhis' own culture-fashion discourse. That discourse is both constructed by Ladakhis taking the perspective of tourists, and constructed in order so that Ladakhis can take the perspective of tourists. Phunchok resists the perspective of the tourists and thus also the culturefashion discourse. Phunchok opposes both with the forward-backward discourse. He states: "but we also want things to be easy." The implication is that tourists live an easy life and the expectation that Ladakh should remain unchanging is unfair. Norbu then joins in comparing tourists touring Ladakh, to those visiting a zoo. Phunchok indicates that the tourists are keeping Ladakhis trapped in their cultural dress, and he resists, stating: "we want change." Within this internal dialogue, the voice of the tourist creates genuine dialogue. The "me-as-neglecting-my-culture" emerges. But the interesting thing is that the Ladakhis manage to successfully resist the renegade voice, and they silence it with persuasive arguments.

Becoming Other 225

I I I

i

"Yes the Youth Have Changed"

Resisting the tourist voice is rare, and even when it does occur, it is not always successful. There are several instances where efforts to control the reengage voice, but which result in capitulation and thus the dynamic emergence of a new "me." Consider the following utterance from Tsogyal, a middle aged urban man, who has had considerable experience with tourists: Tourists say we do not value our CULTURE and it is getting extinct. It is not true. In the case of CULTURE, in festivals and marriages, we observe all the TRADJTION and CULTURE. CULTURE is not for all the time, you cannot go around with a perak [an elaborate wedding headdress containing a woman's dowry in the form of turquoise]. We do wear gonchha when there is a festival or a PROGRAMME.-Yes, the youth have CHANGED, a bit, but this is because of TOURISTS as we live with them. We smoke CIGARETTES, alcohol, hashish and so on. Some TOURISTS do these and this has a n effect on the youth of ladakh. This is right. Tsogyal invokes the voice of tourists, who say that Ladakhis do not value their culture and that "it is getting extinct." Tsogyal's initial stance is to firmIy resist this voice, stating simply, "it is not true." However, the

I

I

,

claim that the culture is "getting extinct" begins to escape, and some further response is required to contain it. Accordingly, Tsogyal points out the various ways in ~vhichLadakhis are presewing their culture, and the impracticality of wearing traditional dress evely day. But all these reasons are not enough to silence the claims of the renegade voice and he then interi-upts himself with a second defensive response. This marks a change of perspective. He now adopts the "I" position of the tourist voice and reflects upon Ladakh. "Yes," he says, "the youth have changed." Here he is conceding to the renegade voice but with a certain qualification: this change is directly attributable to the interventions or tourists, thus undermining the right for tourists to criticize these chatlges. In descl.ibing the ways in which the yot~tllhave changed, he blips between talking about "the youth" and "wc," indicating that the renegade voice has also altered, if only temporarily, his 'me.' He says, "we smoke cigarettes, alcohol, hashish and so on." At the end of the utterance Tsogyal is cornpsomised, having tricd to resist the renegade voice, he now feels complicit in that he is not doing enough to prese~vethe culture. Tsogyal tried to resist the renegade voice of the tourist, but failed, and ends up with a new "me," namely, "me-as-neglecting-the-cl~lture." The emergence of a new "me" is notjust the emergence of a ncw sense of self, or self-concept, that exits solely at the level of ideation. The "me," for Mead, is a pl~aseof social action. The "me" ariscs through perspective-taking within a social act. Tsogyal's emergent "me-as-smoking-anddrinking," for example, arises by taking the perspective of tom-ists. But this "me" also contributes informs future action and interaction. The "me" enables the self to contml sclf's own actions and uttei-ances from the standpoint of the other. Tsogyal, for example, could choose to give up smoking in orcler to contribute to prcsei-ving the culture. While we do not know whether Tsogyal has made such a choice, there is significant supportive evidence from across Ladakh, that "me-neglectingthe-culture" is mediating many actions. At festivals, Ladakhis are forced to wear the gonchha, and some political groups have tried, unsuccessf~~lly, to ban young Ladakhi women from wearing jeans. The gonchha has been made the compulsoiy uniform in some schools. Moves have been made to standardise the steps in traditional Ladakhi dances. Also, an increasing number of Ladakhis, especially the young, are becoming vegetarian. At weddings, a limit has been put on holv Inany animals may be slaughtered. Hemis gonzim, the most powerful in Ladakh, recently stopped senring meat dishes during its famous, and vely public, festival and in its tourist restaurant (though the gonzfia kitchen still prepares meat for the monks). In all these ways, one could argue, that Ladakhis are mediating their action by orienting to and addressing the demanding voice of tourists.

226 A. GILLESPIE

The instant of self-reflection, arising through perspective-taking, contains both agency and constraint. There is constraint imposed by the perspective being taken. This is very clear for the Ladakhis. The tourists repeatedly tell them that they should preserve their culture, and the Ladakhis do not have much room for simply ignoring this. This is the perspective that they are offered. However, there is also agency, as demonstrated both by their resistance to this perspective, and by the ways in which they mediate their behavior from this perspective. When Hemis gomnpa elected to stop serving meat to tourists, its community were both constrained and also intentioned actors. When souvenir sellers manage to sell a "yak bone" carving to tourists they are both orienting to the perspective of tourists, and profiting from that perspective. And when Ladakhis orient to the perspective of tourists by preserving their culture, and presenting it to tourists, so again they are also answering to their own interests. Orienting to the orientation of the other is both to constrain ones action, and to open up nav domains of agency.

INTERNAL DIALOGUE AND SELF-REFLECTION

The voice of tourists, within Ladakhi discourse, is of much more consequence and import than the voice of Ladakhis within tourists' discourse. There seems to be a power asymmetry between Ladakhis and tourists. This finding corroborates the analysis in chapter 6, which found that the touring act has had a greater influence on the Ladakhi universe of discourse than it has had on the tourist universe of discourse. Why might tourists be more important for Ladakhis than Ladakhis are for tourists? Thcre are two possible reasons for this asymmetry. first, a basic stiuctural difference: Ladakhis spend more time with tourists than tourists spend with Ladakhis. Tourists visit Ladakh for a couple ofweeks, but Ladakhis have been living with tourists since 1974.While most tourists encounter Ladakhis injust one year, Ladakhis encounter tourists every year. This asymmetry of exposure could account for the fact that tourists are more important for Ladakhi identity than visa versa. A second possible explanation lies in an asymmetry of symbolic power. Both tourists and Ladakhis subscribe, at least implicitly, to a model that positions Ladakh in the past and the West in the future. Thus, tourists people Ladakhis' imagined fkture, while Ladakhis people tourists' imagined past. Assuming then that the future is more important than the past, in the sense that people are goal directed (Boesch, 199I), then we would again expect that tourists would be more important for Ladakhis than Ladakhis would be for tourists. Yet despite this asymmetry, the same underlying dynamic is evident in both the tourist and the Ladakhi discourse. In both corpora we can see

Becoming Other 227

hotv the perspective of the other, objectified in the voice of the other, can stimulate the formation of a new "me." In both cases the "me" that emerges is discomforting. Tourists become aware of their position of comparative wealth, and thus thc possibility of being "me-as-mean." Ladakhis become aware of a feeling of obligation to preserve Ladakhi culture, and to behave in ways that tourists cxpect (like not eating meat), and thus their other desires and interests. Both tourists and Ladakhis seek to contain the renegade voice and use circr~tnventingstrategies (Josephs & Valsinel; 1998; Valsinel; 2002) to avoid the iinplicalioli of the voice for self. They tly to argue with the voice, they try to disnliss it, and they even act in ways to placate the voice. In all these senses, tlie internal dialogues and the emergent self-reflections are va-y real-they are of consequence. Yet somewhat ironically, the problems caused by the reneg~devoicc are problems caused by the speaker. The voice, althougl~it may originate within the social world, is introduced by the speaker. It is the speaker who brings tlie discomforting self-I-eflection upon themselves, and when dialogue ensues, we witness the speaker speaking to him or hcrsclf. In all cases the dialogue is behveen different aspects of the speaker(s) own dialogical self. Thc present chapter has dcmonstrated that perspective-taking, in the form of quotation, can catalyze debate (inner and outer) and lead to selfreflection. Can we tracc these instances of self-reflection back furtller, to the touring act? In exactly what sense can we say that these instances of self-reflection originate in this social act? I want to suggest that the content of thc renegade voice can be traced back largely to the touring act, whilc the dynamics of self-reflectioi? can be traced back to the general dynamics of all social acts. Let us consider the content first. Where do the renegade voices come from? That these voices are attributed to tourists and Ladakhis is itself a trace pointing to the touring act. If there tvere no touring act, it is inconceivable that Ladakhis would be quoting tourists, and feeling shamecl by the sheer weight of tourist insistence and critique. The case is less applicable to tourists. Arguably, tourists without ever traveling to Ladakh or for that mattel; any developing countly, might feel uncomfortably privileged and wealthy. Yet, the experience of this privilege, as described above, can only be understood in terms of these tourists being in Ladakh. In the genealogical analysis we tried to connect particular content with particular social acts. With regards to the voices of the other this is not possible. It is dificult to say precisely in which areas of the touring act these voices originate. The voices tend to be generalized voices (e.g., "Oh! Switzerland is beautiful" and "why do you eat meat?"). In Meadian terminology, we can say that these voices originate in a generalized Ladakhi other tvithin a generalized touring act.

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Now, let us turn to the dynamics of self-reflection. What is the dynamic underlying the renegade voice, and does it originate in the touring act? Self-reflection is such a generalized dynamic, that it is necessary to relate it to social acts in general. And my point, here, would be that self-reflection is, in its very structure, a social act. When the voice of the other is invoked and made manifest in sound, in a vocal gesture, then it becomes a vocal gesture in the world, just like any other utterance, or indeed just as if it had been spoken by the person being quoted. The quoted utterance calls out responses in all who hear it-including the person who voiced it. Thus when the speaker reacts to, and dialogues with the renegade voice this is in actuality no different from normal dialogue. The underlying stnlcture is the same. There is creativity through dialogue. The utterance of "my interlocutor," Merleau-Ponty (1945t1962, p. 354) writes, "draws from me thoughts which I had no idea I possessed." The defining feature of dialogue is that the utterance of the other calls out something new within self. And this creativity is evident in the renegade voice. The speakers are surprised by the renegade voice, and demands a response and in most cases it calls a response out of thein. The only peculiarity is that both utterance and response originate in the same person. This, however, merely demonstrates the social nature of the self. As Mead remarked: "A multiple personality is in a certain sense normal" (1934, p. 142).

CHAPTER 12

SELF-REFLECTION

It is now time to broaden the analysis and to focus on self-reflection directly. In the previous cliapter we approached self-reflection incliscctly, by s e a ~ l i i n gout instanccs or perspective-taking and explored whether perspective-taking might lead to self-reflection. I11 the pl-cscnt chapter we start with self-1-cflection. Gathet-ing together all the instances of self-reflection that appear in the discussions, the analysis attempts to make these explicable in terms of Mead's theoly. This analysis distinguishes two types of self-reflection, which I term self-mediation and short-circuiting. Self-mediation begins with an utterance and ends with self reflecting upon that utterance, from the perspective of a more or less gencralizccl other. Short-circuiting begins with a description of the other and ends with self recognizing that the same description applies to self. In self-mediation self becomes other by "stepping out" of an ongoing utterance or action, while in short-circuiting self becomes other by "stepping into" the action or utterance of another. Having explicated and explored these two dynamics, the chapter concludes by showing how both forms of self-reflection can be made explicable in terms of the significant symbol, and thus the social act.

Beco?f!i?fgOther: Aam SocinZ Inte~nctionto Self-Relecfion, 229-254 Copyright O 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any form resewed.

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APPROACHING THE ANALYSIS

Searching through both tourist and Ladakhi discourse for instances where a new "me" emerges is difficult. Simply put, because this aspect of Mead's theory has been so rarely operationalized, there is no precedent for how or what to code as evidence of self-reflection. The problem is similar to what we encountered when searching for instances of perspective-taking (chapter I l), and it is a problem of what to exclude from consideration. There is a sense in which every utterance entails a degree of self-reflection. Certainly, Mead would maintain that it is so, for every utterance positions the speaker vis-his something or someone. In so far as the utterance is made up out of significant symbols, so it must entail some self-reflection. But again, to say that self-reflection is everyvhere is, ironically, to let it slip from our grasp. The present analysis searched for instances where either tourists or Ladakhis make some comment about themselves which seems novel. This is a somewhat vague criterion, and doubtless another researcher would orientate to and locate hrther instances. According to this criteria statements such as "we tourists destroy everything" were not included because although they imply a "me" ("me-as-a-tourist") this "me" does not entail a novel emergence. Instead the "me" entailed seems to be stagnant, and one that the speaker is resigned to. In order to locate the genuine emergence of a new "me" emphasis is placed upon instances where one "me" is claimed and then in the course of the discussion a new "me" emerges. Thus the analysis focuses not upon fixed positions, but rather upon repositioning, o r the seIf-reflective movement between positions. The analysis identified 60 incidents of self-reflective repositioning across both corpora, but I cannot claim this to be exhaustive because repositioning is difficult to spot. Sometimes it happens quickly, and sometimes it happens over a longer time span. And it can happen in a more o r less dramatic way. In any case, it is not the frequency that is of interest in the present analysis, but rather the underlying mechanism of perspective taking. The analysis proceeded with questions on two fronts. First, is the reflector taking the perspective of someone else when reflecting on self? If so who? And what is the content of the self-reflection (i.e., what is the "me")? The second line of questioning concerns the real-time, or step-by-step, interaction sequence leading up to the moment of self-reflection. What prompts the speaker to interrupt him/her self and self-reflect? Surveying the instances of self-reflection, in the light of Mead's theory, revealed an important discovery. Two distinct dynamics of self-reflection can be identified. First, there is what I call self-mediation. Self-mediation begins with self involved in some activity, and then switching perspective

so as to observe self. This is a "stepping out" of ongoing activity. 0 1 1 the other hand there is what I call short-circuiting, which is more akin to "stepping into" someone else's shoes. Short-circuiting begins with self reacting to the other and then realizing that self is the same as the other, such that reacting to the other becomes reacting to oneself, or self-reflection. Self-mediation seems to be what Mead had in mind when talking about self-reflection. In self-mediation the "I" becomes the "me." Mead, however, does not mention anything like short-circuiting. In short-circuiting it is the othe~;the "you" or "they," that becomes the "me." k l d , as the analysis will show, this latter form of self-reflection is particularly revealing about the way in which self-reflection develops.

SELF-MEDIATION: "1" BECOMES THE "ME"

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Self-mediation refers to any movcnlent which carries the speaker from being embedded in some activity/perspective towarcl a reflection upon that activity. It is the movernellt frorn enacting an "I" position, to reflecting upon that "I" position (now a "me"). I11 self-mediation tllc "I" attitude at titne one, becomes the topic at time two (i.e., a "me"). Wllat is thc mechaaism that enables self-mediation? In self-meditation the inechar~isrrlof stepping out seems to bc taking the perspective of the other. The following excerpt is an ill~istrationfrom the tourist cliscussions:

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Ray: They have that, em, you can see it in their face, that inner peace, happiness, and really really down to eartll and friendly people Guy: That is also what you scc, in the villages, people who are happy, look peaceful, - maybe I imagine things, but - smiling. Louise: Always saying, what is it, 'j'~dley"[hcllo] they all say ''jjwlley," all of them, they don't even know you Ray: It's definitely different to the West, because in London nobody speaks to you These tourists, in this excerpt, hold a particularly positive view of life in Ladakh. In Ladakh, they say, evelyone is happy and says "jz~lley" or "hello," unlike in London where "nobody speaks to you." The selfmediation occurs in the utterance by Guy, who interrupts himself to doubt his own optimism. Guy doubts his own experience of Laclaklii villagers being happy, saying, "maybe 1 imagine things." In this act of selfmediation, Guy emerges to himself, briefly, as "me-imagining-thillgs." In this moment of self-reflection the topic of Guy's utterance is no longer the "happy" Ladakhi villagers, but instead becomes his own pos-

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sibly distorted perception of these villagers. The moment of self-reflection, however, is short-lived, and does not seem to affect either Guy or his colleagues. When Guy self-reflects and becomes the topic of his own thought ("meimagining-things"), he is becoming other to himself. The question is: Does this occur because Guy is taking the perspective of an other on himself? It is impossible to answer this question precisely. Certainly there is a change of perspective and Guy comments upon himself in the same manner that he might comment upon the optimistic statements of someone else, But, whether this arises because Guy takes the perspective of Ladakhis, other tourists or me is unclear. Probably it is a combination of all these perspectives, that is, he is taking the perspective of the generalized other. What is the step-by-step interaction sequence that leads Guy to this moment of self-reflection? It is likely that the "peculiar importance of the vocal gesture" is again critical. Mead (1912, 1934, p. 36) observed that the vocal gesture is peculiar because self hears it in the same way that other hears it. This means that Guy hears his own utterance about the "happy" villagers in the same way that he might hear another tourist talk about the "happy" Ladakhis, which in turn means that he can react to himself in the same way that he would react to an other. If Guy heard another tourist say that Ladakhi villagers are "happy," he might interject that this is an overly I-omanticimagination. In the present case, because he hears himself as he wouId hear an othel; he interrupts himself in the same way that he might interrupt an other. Thus, simply put, Guy becomes other to himself by virtue of hearing himself.

Self-Mediation From the Perspective of Another Tourist

In self-mediation, self takes some other perspective on self, and the question of which perspective self takes remains open. In tourist selfmediation, when the analysis points toward some specific perspective that is being taken, it is always the perspective of other tourists-never the perspective of Ladakhis. The following excerpt is typical. It is taken from a discussion I had with two English students who, after spending 8 days in Ladakh, have decided to leave. Laura: I wanted to be more involved, eh, - sorry, I am talking too much - but I wanted to come up here for longer, to do voluntary work, to be more part of it, rather than just a tourist passing through, taking photos and buying things, eh, eh, I am

Becoming Other 233

quite disappointed I haven't, I don't know, eh, in 8 days you can't, em, [pause] AG: Especially when you have to acclimatize Laura: Yeah, I don't know, if its just having been with a family in the first place I now want everything to be personal, to see proper India rather than just thc India that everyone - that sounds rather c1ichd.d - but that tourists see [pause and sigh] so I am a tourist really 11.1 this excerpt, Laura mediates her own s p e e ~ htwice. First, as she hears her utterance begin shc sccs herself fi-om tlie standpoint of others and the norm that people shoulcl talk for roughly equal amounts of time in a group discussion. From this standpoint she perceives that she is talking too nluch. This awareness manifests in the utterance "soriy, I am talking too tnuch"-~~~hicl~ fails to stop her from talking. This utterance, then, is perhaps as much an act of self-presentation (sceking reassurance from her intcrloc~itorsthat she is not talking too much, or at lcast letting them know that she knows she is talking too much) as it is a genuine expression of thought. Nevertheless, we can ask, what prompted Laura to make this sclf-reflective act of self-pi-cscntation? Yet again, the vocal gesture is important. Laura hears her-self "talking too much." And because she becomes other to herself, through the vocal gesture, so she is able to comment upon herself in much the same manner thal shc might comment upon somcone else rvho is talking too much. Does this act of sclf-reflection originate in the touring act? No. This is part of' a much broader social institution, which we might call the talking1 listening act. This is a social act that we are all socialized into from a vely young age, and importantly, it is a social act in which we have repeatedly experienced both sides: sometimes we talk, and sometimes we listen. Mfe have all suffered others who doniinatc thc conversation. And Laura, I suggest, finds herself suffering her self. She is latnenting at her own verbosity in the same way that she might lament the verbosity of an other. Thus while this instance of self-reflection does not originate in the touring act, it does seem to obey the logic of a social act-namely the talking1 listening act. Laura's second act of self-mediation, however, is more closely related to the touring act. Laura hears herself say that she wants to "be more part of it, rather than just a tourist" and that she wants "to see proper India." These utterances position Laura apart from other tourists. We get the impression that she wants a more authentic experience. She wants to be a traveler, "rather than just a tourist passing through." But, ironically, by tlying not to be a tourist Laura perceives herself to be "me-as-a-clichCd-tourist." The utterance is particularly complex

234 A. GILLESPIE

because ostensibly Laura is saying that she is not a tourist, yet upon hearing herself say this, Laura is prompted to observe that her aspirations sound "rather cliched." Laura tries to move on, reverting to her original attitude in order to complete her utterance, but the emerging "me-as-aclichkd-tourist" continues, resulting in a sigh of capitulation and the statement "so I am a tourist really." Again, it is the vocal gesture that prompts self-reflection. The more she speaks, the more she hears her own aspirations as "clichCd." She herself states that her utterance "sounds" rather clichkd-thus supporting the interpretation that this self-reflection has occurred in the auditory modality. Laura's "me-as-a-clichdd-tourist" emerges in Laura's response to her listening to herself. As Mead (1934, p. 140) writes: "We are finding out what we are going to say, what we are going to do, by saying and doing, and in the process we are continually controlling the process itself." But why should the vocal gesture, of wanting to see "proper India," stimulate such self-reflection? The vocal gesture is a significant symbof: it is a bridge behveen the two perspectives within the self-narration act. Within this act, the tourist telling the narrative tries to claim the position of traveler--of having toured "proper India." However, the tourist Iistening to the narrative has a different perspective: they see in such claims a tourist trying to be a traveler, and they find it "clich6d." When we say that Laura's utterance is significant symbolic, we are saying that it combines these two perspectives within the self-narrating act. And because Laura has occupied both of these social positions (both narrator and listener), and she has integrated these perspectives, so she is able to say "clichdd." Laura, I suggest, begins by trying to sustain "me-as-a-traveler" and she does so by differentiating herself from the tourist dupes. As she speaks, however, and the vocal gesture works its magic, externalizing her thoughts, and making them audible for all (including herself), a part of her self takes the "I" position of the posttourist. And from this perspective she sees her own attempts to claim a "traveler" position as "clichCd." Thus, in this instance, Laura becomes other to herself, not by taking the perspective of Ladakhis, but by taking her own perspective: she reacts to herself as a "traveler" in much the same way that she would react upon hearing about the strivings - of an other "traveler." Laura's feat of self-reflection is based upon an elaborate significant symboIic structure, the web of discourse that weaves the "I" positions of tourist, traveler, and posttourist together. This is not Laura's own creation. This, as demonstrated in chapter 8, is a global discourse that has been constructed in the global social act of touring. Because dI tourists (at least all the ones I spoke to) share this discourse, so they are all able to take each other's perspectives with Iittle effort. Why? Because they all

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have the same perspectives: they participate in the same discourse. All they must do is react to themselves in the same way that they react toward other tourists.

Social Self-Mediation In the self-mediations analyzed so far there is a sense in which they are not only for the benefit of the speaker, but that they ai-e also oriented to the interlocutors. Specifically, the mediating attitudes may be attitudes that are attributed by the spcaker to the rest of the group. The speaker then is listening to themselves speak from the standpoint of the group. This aspect of self-mediation is particularly evident when I ask tourists to legitimate their actions. In such situations one can witness tourists reorienting to their o~vnactions from tny standpoint. Such direct questioning, thcn, leads tourists to pause and consider their own actions fi-om the point of view of another tourist, or a researcher. For example, in one discussion an English couplc told me about a trip they had taken on a motorbike along the Leli valley: Claire: F\k took photos of all the monasteries AG: As you drove past? Ben: A lot of them were close up, wc'd stop and drive, also people working in the Iields AG: And, why did you photo the goinpas? Claire: Because they look beautiful Ben: Because that's what you are supposed to do! In their stoty, this couple indicate that they took photographs of "all the monasteries" without going in to see any of them, so I ask if they took the photographs without even stopping the motorbike. To do so would, within the tourist discourse, typify the behavior of the tourist dupe. Ben says, somewhat defensively, that they did stop for the photographs, and he begins to change the topic. My first question perhaps made Ben feel that he was creating the impression in my mind of being a tourist who was only having a superficial, or drive-by, experience. When I ask "why" they photographed the monasteries, the touristic quality of their actions become salient, and Ben responds with a post-tourist joke. Rather than denying that he is a typical tourist, or tlying to justify his actions, Ben abandons the ideal of a coherent self-image and presents an inconsistent self-image. In saying, "because that is what you are supposed to do," Ben affirms his awareness of their photographing activity as touristic, and yet

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Becoming Other 237

he admits to going along with what he is "supposed to do. Indeed, the reflective utterance while ostensibly positioning himself as a tourist dupe, due to its reflectivity actually claims a posttourist position. Thus, as with Laura, there is a divergence between the "me" ostensibly claimed and the "me" implicitly claimed. Between Ben's first utterance and his second utterance, he has shifted perspective from that of describing his motorbike tour, to commenting upon himself. He experiences himself as "me-as-a-typical-tourist." The point I want to draw out, however, is that this self-mediation is inextricably distributed and embedded in the group process. My utterances, in this instance, are part of his self-mediation. Without my questioning, it is unlikely that Ben would have been led to this particular self-reflection within this particular discursive stream.

LADAKHI SELF-MEDIATION

Turning to the Ladakhi corpus, we can also find instances of self-mediation. Unsurprisingly, the main source of self-l-eflection is again the dialogical tension between the foiward-backward discourse and the culturefashion discourse. As mentioned at the outset, this is the main dialogical tension within the Ladakhis universe of discourse. The way in which these colliding discourses can produce self-reflection is illustrated in the following excerpt, from a middle aged Ladakhi man talking to his friends about the need to gonfonvard."

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Thundup: Maenever there is a construction of a building, making roads, bridges etc. we use our own hands. They [tourists/the West] use machines for everything. So I think we are 50 years behind their countries. We need to develop technically - but we should preserve our culture too Thundup starts by comparing Ladakh to the West. This comparison is used to sustain the idea that Ladakh is "50 years behind." He employs the backward-forward discourse and consequently asserts, "We need to develop technically." Because the Ladakhi discourse has two opposing evaluative dimensions (forward-backward and culture-fashion) the goal of going fonvard often comes into conflict with the negatively concept of fashion. For exampIe, Thundup advocates going fonvard (modernization) so persuasiveIy, that he courts and potentially comes into conflict with the culture-fashion discourse. His utterances couId be interpreted as insinuating that Ladakhis should forget their culture. As he hears himself say this,

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"me-against-culture" emerges, and needs to be dismissed. Accordingly, Tllundup is quick to change perspective, and adds, "but we should preserve our culture too." This self-reflective manoeuvre, is an act of selfmediation. The use of "but," as usual, marks a dialogical shift of perspective. Thundup is stepping out of his previous perspective, and mediating it from a second perspective, p We cannot say precisely whose Whose perspective is T h u n d ~ ~taking? perspective Thundup takes, rather wc arc again dealing with a generalized perspective. He is taking the perspective of the ~ulture-fashiondiscourse, and this discourse is as much his as any other Ladakhis. In the above excerpt, we see Thundup bcgin using the fol-ward-backward discourse, elaborating this point of view, and tl~enas hc hcars himself speak, he switches discourse, and takes up the culture-fasllion discourse. Thet-e are contrasting instances when Ladakhis can be seen to movc in the reverse direction. After valorizing the need to presci~cLaclakhi culturc, they self-reflect, and add that there is a ncecl to develop as well. In both cascs, the analysis reveals the same underlying mechanism that we found with regards to tourists. Self-mediation implies a sllifi of perspective, but this shift does not have to be to the actual perspective of another, rather it can be simply a sccond discourse. If follows, however, that becau~ediscourses are stlared ally s u ~ hswitch or discourse will, simultaneously, be an instance of taking the perspective of ocliers. That is to say, taking up a ncw discourse is tlie same as taking thc perspective of the group who uses that discourse. Thus, for example, Thutldup's taking up or the culture-fashion discourse is also an instance of taking thc perspective of his colleagues in the group, because they also share this discourse.

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Self-Mediation From the Perspective of a Tourist

Self-mediation can also arise through taking the perspective of a specific other. While Thundup reflects 011 his previous utterance by changing discourse, in the following excerpt Namgyal self-mediates by taking my perspective. This exchange is from a group discussion between urban Ladakhi men, who are speaking in English. I am also present, but I am not leading the discussion. We join the group just after the moderator has asked the group about tourists: Chakdor: So many foreigners, sometimes they ask us rubbish questions, bla bla, so many things

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Becoming Other 239

Namgyal: Tourists ask us very silly questions sometimes, "why don't we preserve our culture?"- I agree with this, I should preserve my culture, but ok, sometimes this question,- OK, you [orienting to me] are anthropologist, I don't know what you are, but with you it's OK - I mean many tourists are coming some are doctors, some are pilots, Tashi: And teachers [everyone laughs because Tashi is a teacher] Pllunchok: (We clean the rubbish) Namgyal: Yes, we are doing good things. We have banned plastic bags. Travel Agent Association of Ladakh has sent people to Markha valley to clean, so we do1 In these few years, people are quite aware, we are on track, but we cannot change our life Chakdor works as a guide, and he comments on the "~ubbishquestions" that tourists ask. Namgyal, who owns a trekking agency, agrees. To demonstrate how "silly" tourists are he invokes the voice of tourists who say, "w11y don't you preserve your culture?" As soon as Namgyal gives voice to thc tourist attitude, however, it threatens to become a renegade voice, and he immediately replies, "I agree with this, I should preserve my culture." He then tries to contain this renegade voice by saying "but sometimes this question" and then before he finishes the utterance, his perspective has changed, and he is now listening to himself from my point of view. At this moment, upon hearing a renegade voice, I was particularly interested. I may have given Namgyal a second glance. Previously in the group discussion I had chided Namgyal for not wearing his gonchha. Namgyal is now worried that he may be criticizing me. For Sonam, "me-being-impolite" emerges. Accordingly, Namgyal, being polite, tries to differentiate me from the tourists he is about to criticize. He states: "OK, you are anthropologist, I don't know what you are, but with you it's OK." Here the self-mediation depends upon my presence, even though I do not speak. My presence is enough to make salient the fact that I may have a different interpretation of Namgyal's utterance. In the middle of his utterance, then, Namgyal steps out of his utterance and takes my perspective. Following the conversation, for the sake of completeness, we can see how the renegade voice continues to wreak havoc, and still needs to be silenced. Having differentiated me from other tourists, Namgyal returns, not to tourists' "silly questions," but to trying to deal with the silly question "why don't you preserve your culture?" In order to try and silence this voice he lists all the efforts that have been made to placate tourists. He mentions that he and other travel agents sent people along one of the popular trekking routes in order to clean u p the rubbish.

This is again an illustration of the close relation between self-reflection and action.

Separating Social Self-Mediation From Individual Self-Mediation?

In the case of both tourists and Laclakhis we have scen how selfmediation is often dccply embedded in the interaction context of the discussion gn,up. Speakers are aware of what they say from the perspect i ~ eof the group. In many excerpts it seems to be impossible to draw the line betwee11 interpersonal and intrapersonal pronipls for scllreflection. Even when self-mediation occurs within one uuerance born one individual, it is heavy with the presence of the group. The gaze of the group ~riembessupon thc speakel; nods, and raised eyebrows are all part of t l ~ eso-called psychological process of sclf-reflection. T l ~ esocial trigger for self-reflection is perhaps most evident when taken to thc extreme, h a t is, when thc shift of perspective occul-s betwccn pcople hefore occurring ~vithinthe give11 incliviclual's streanl of thought. An example of f ~ ~ l ldistributecl y and social self-reflection is cviclent in the following excerpt. The moderator asks the group what rnakes them embarrassed. Ladakhi moderator: Right, Right, you all are right. Now what makes you EMBARRASSED? Padma: I feel sad, you know what rnakes me sad, Ladakhi girls wearing jeans Angchuk: Do you really! Stanzin: Who says, "now see the butts, see the movement"? [Eve~yonelaugh, including Padma]

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Padma laments that Ladakl~iwomen are moving from culture to fashion: They are wearing jeans. On this occasion Padma's friends see the contradiction before Padma does. They accuse him of actually appreciating Ladakhi women wearing jeans. His friends will not let him claim the position associated with culttire, ancl they position him as corrupted by desire, and thus associate him with fashion instead. I11 this exchange Padma is led to reflect upon himself, ho~vevel; the loop of reflection extends out into the social world. The reflection happens first in the minds of Angchuk and Stanzin and then in Padma's own mind. First Padma's colleagues position Yadma as a "fashion Ladakhi" and only after this does Padma arise to himself as "me-being-a-fashion-

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Ladakhi." Interpersonal interaction scaffolds intrapersonaI discourse and intrapersonal self-reflection. Accordingly, the next time Padma begins to voice such an opinion, he may self-mediate before he speaks, or even during bis utterance, drawing the loop of self-reflection toward the intrapsychological realm. The point, however, is that whether the self-mediation occurs within the interpersonal or the intrapersonal realm, it is a sociai dynamic that involves taking the perspective of a more or less generaiized other.

BLURRING THE INTRAINDIVIDUAL AND INTERINDIVIDUAL DISTINCTION

Self-mediation redirects the course of an action or utterance. The point at which this mediation can occur can either be proximate to the impulse, in which case the impulse may never lead to any observable utterance. In these instances we can say that the self-mediation occurs within the intrapsychological realm. The above analysis has focused, however, upon instances where the mediation occurs once an utterance has been initiated. Sell-reflection, I suggest, is particularly prominent at this point due to the peculiarIy reflexive nature of the vocal gesture, that is, speakers hear themselves speak in the same way that others hear them. Upon hearing their own utterances, speakers can, because they share the same discourses as the group, react to themselves from the standpoint of the group. We have also seen how self-mediation may be prompted by others. Ben did not mediate his photographic behavior while he was photographing gomfia from the motorbike, or while he was telling me about his photographic activities. Horvevel; my questioning led him to consider this behavior from the traveler-tourist evaluative dimension, and accordingly, he positioned himself as a tourist. Equally, Padma did not mediate his own lament about the Ladakhi women wearing jeans. It was Padma's colleagues who point out the comic contradiction between this lament and Padma's previous behavior. These instances of self-mediation are particularly interesting, because they clearly demonstrate the close link between the interaction of perspectives at the level of social interaction and the change of perspective at the level of self-reflection. Whether self-mediation is occurring within the intrapersonal realm, in the interpersonal realm, or in some space in between, it is always social. Either the group reacts to the individual and informs him or her (as in the case of Padma), or the individual takes the perspective of the interlocutor (as in the case of Ben), or the individual takes the group of

Becoming Other 241

the generalized other (for example, when Laura reflects that she is talking too much). In all cases self-mediation entails a shift of perspective. TOURISTS' SHORT-CIRCUITING: THE "OTHER" BECOMES THE "ME"

Short-circuiting is, in a sense, the reverse dynamic of self-mediation. In self-mediation self "steps out" of a stream of thought and reflects upon it. I11 short-circuiting self begins by talking about, usually criticizing othel; and then realizes that one is also talking about self. I11 self-mediation self becomes other to self by taking the perspective of other on self's ongoing action. In short-circuiting self becomes othcr to self by seeirlg self in the other. If self-mediation is about the "I"' of a previous action or uttcrancc becoming the "me" then short-circuiting is about the "your' or "they" becoming the "me." While Mead wrote aboiit the "I" of a previous thought becoming the "me" of a subsequent thought, lie did no1 theorize thc "tlicy" beconling the "me." However, the dynamic of short-circuiting provides strong support for Mead's tlleoty. According to the thcoiy taking the perspective of thc other, which is fundamental to significant symboIi7ation, arises through self generalizing self's own responses. Self responds tu self in 111e same way that self responds to others. And it is this dyr~arnicthat shortcircuiting demonstt-ates, quite vividly. In short-circuiting, self is becorrli~lg other.

From "They" to "We"

Short-circuiting is particularly promine~ltin the tourist discussions. Before considering the theoretical importance of the dynamic, I will illustrate the phenomena by considering in some detail a conversation that I had with three older English tourists. These tourists were traveling around Ladakh in a private jeep. I met them in a restaurant-bar in Leh, nearby the comfortable hotel that they were staying in. When I first saw this group, with their clutter of cameras, bags, and sun-cream, they struck me as looking more like tourists than travelers. Ho~vevel; when I approached Norman, Betty (Norman's wife) and Carol asking if they ~vorildfacilitate my research on "tourists," Norman interrupted me, quite serio~~sly, saying that they were not "tourists" but were "travelers." Once I explained that "travelers" were also part of my research, and the group

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242 A. GILLESPIE

agreed to participate, I then asked Norman about the difference between travelers and tourists. He said: Carol: Betty:

Norman: I think travelers are people who go to a country to appreciate the culture, and I think tourists go to a country to be voyeurs, in a way, they have nothing to contribute to it, they reallyjust want to go as a diversion, they may as well go to Btackpool

AG:

In Norman's distinction the term "voyeur" is important. Voyeurs have visual pleasure without getting involved. According to Norman, "tourists" are like voyeurs-"they have nothing to contribute." Travelers, on the other hand, he says, "appreciate the culture." The Iink between tourism and voyeurism is objectified in tourist photograpl~y.Accordingly, I asked the group about the photographs that they have taken.

Betty: Carol: Norman:

Carol: Norman:

Norman:

I would love to take photos of them [elderly indigenous people], but I, since 1966, which shows my age, since my experiences in Central America I don't do that AG: What experience was that? Norman: Well watching a bunch of Germans, as a matter of fact, with huge thousand millimeter telephoto lenses photographing primitive Indian tribes people who felt their soul was being destroyed, and these people were sitting there blatantly photographing (pause) they should have been kicked out)

In this trace of the photographing act, we again see Norman position himself apart from other tourists. The "bunch of Germans" are the tourist dupes with cameras-they are the "voyeurs." Norman, on the other hand, stands apart from the voyeurism and criticizes it. In this narrative Norman is actually talking about a short-circuit. The behavior of the tourist photographers was more "blatant" for Norman than his own photographic behavior. He claims that he learnt not to photograph indigenous people not by observing his own actions, but by observing the actions of others. This is a short-circuiting because the "they" becomes the "me"-Norman self-reflects by recognizing himself in the other. However, this is only a self-report, and thus has very limited analytic value. It is more useful to rejoin the conversation, which builds up to an actual short-circuit: Betty: I think a lot of the time people don't realize what they are looking at [...I certainly at Key gompa I got that feeling, there were just lots and lots of Westerners there, and all tak-

I I 1

I

!

ing photos, you know they had tripods and they had videos, and you know, all around the performance area (I could not believe it) You know they were taking it as, as a colorful performance which it was - but there must be, behind that, which we are not aware of, a philosophy that we don't understand [...I and we are there ilitruding as IVesterners intruding with flashing [cameras] But then the question is ifwe don't understand what is going on [in these festivals] why is it so meaningful, why do you take photographs? Be~auseit's pretty to look at Because it's colorftil, it's different. It's totally dilrerent to anything we have seen in the past [pause] wc havc all been brought up on the Nntio?~alGeagrayh ic We are completely observers, we are not part of it We don't know what is going on, I think its voyeurism

'This exchallge has three clear phases. First, Betty begins by agreeing wit11 her husband in criticizing tourist photographers. Betty tells about tourists shc saw at Key gonzfia. "They" did not tu1de1-standwhat they were looking at, "they had tripods," "they had videos," and "they were taking it as, as a colorful perfortnance." "They" are typical tourists. In all these utterances she criticizes ollter tourists. The implication is that Betty and her cotravelers are different to these "typical tourists." Ho~vevet;fl-om the rest of Betty's utterances, we know that Betty, Carol and Norman, who all had cameras, were also taking photographs of the dancers. This is indicated when Betty says "we" are "intruding with flashing [cameras]." This divergence, runs unrecognized until the middle of Betty's second utterance, in which there is a perspective change. The shift of perspective is the instantiation of the short-circuit. Having said that "they" were viewing the dancing "as a colorf~ilperformance," Betty interrupts herself to add, "which it was." What happens at this moment? Betty speaks, and then she agrees with herself. She hears herself say that "they were taking it as, as a colorful performance" and she is compelled to agree with "them," and thus she responds to the utterance"~vl~icli it was." How has this shift of perspective occurred? Again, the mechanism seems to be that which was originally described by Mead (1912, 1934) in terms of the "peculiar importance of the vocal gesture." Betty hears herself describe the festival as a "colorf~ilperformance" in just the same way that she might hear someone else describe the festival, and accordingly, she agrees with herself in just the same way that she might

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244 A. GILLESPIE

agree with someone else. Betty has become other to herself through the peculiar reflexivity of the vocal gesture. After the short-circuit, there is a complete change of pronoun use: it is "we" who are not aware, "we" who do not understand and "we" who are intruding with cameras. Where previously Betty was trying to foreground the difference between "they" and "we," now Betty positions herself alongside the other tourists. The boundary between "they" and Betty's "me" has collapsed. From Betty's point of view, the other has become "me." The coilapse of the self-other boundary is carried over in the use of "we," first by me, and then by Norman, who concludes that "we" all have been "brought up on the National Geographic." The implication is that the National Geoqaflhic has socialized us into a sort of voyeurism, where we search out the visual image of the dance, rather than the meaning of the dance. The excerpt ends with Norman positioning himself, alongside the tourist photographers as a "voyeur"-thus collapsing the distinction that he had so insisted upon initially. How is it that the vocal gesture can instigate Betty's shift of perspective? Again it is because the vocal gesture ("they were taking it as, as a colo r h I performance") is a significant symbolic phrase. This phrase is significant symbolic because it combines two perspectives. (1) On the one hand it evokes the perspective of the tourists taking the photographs, namely the perspective of admiring the performance. It is from this perspective that there is a "coIorful performance" (2) On the other hand it evokes the perspective of the critic, the one who observes the tourist photographers and is criticizing them. It is from the perspective of the critic observer, that we can say that "they were taking." Thus the phrase, like all significant symbols, combines both perspectives that are embedded in action (observing the "colorful performance") and perspectives that are more distant (criticizing the tourist photographers). The significant symbolic phrase needs both of these perspectives in order to be meanin&l. If there were absolutely no empathy with the idea that the festival could be considered to be a "colorful performance" then the utterance would be incomprehensible-one needs to empathize with the idea of a "colorhl performance" in order to understand the utterance. Equally, if one only saw the colorful performance, and could not understand the point of view of the critic, then the statement would be equally meaningless. It is the coexistence of these two perspectives within the phrase that make Betty's short-circuit explicable. Although initially it is perspective (2) that predominates, it invokes perspective (I), which Betty empathizes with, realizing that she also thought it was a "colorful performance," which in turn leads to the short-circuit. The short-circuit, then, moves not along a path of association, but along a path of intersub-

jective connection - the path of the significant symbol, a path forged in the social act.

Resisting a Short-Circuit

Norman and Betty resign themselves to becoming eq~livalentto other tourists with little resistance. Normally, however, tourists resist becoming otllel; especially rvhen that other is a totwist dupc. I11 the follotving exchange, a group of three young British women arc telling me of some tourist dupes who they have seen, and this leads to a short-circuit. [They] Just sat in a caf6 getting absolutely stoned 'Cos you speak to the Israelis (17hel-e are lots of Israelis) You speak to tlletn, and you're like "what have you done while you lrave been here?" Kt~th: "Oh we have been in here for 2 week" Janet: "We sat here and we smoked, and rlien we got a motorbike" [Eveiyonc lauglls] Ruth: Yeah! They all think they are out of Easy K i d e ~or something [laugh], going around with their long hair AG: It is surprising how many negative comments I hear about them Sophie: The thing is, I know it sounds arvful, but they are so clique-y, em, it's so difficult to talk to them Janet: I mean we still partook in stuff going on there, we just did it more limited and we did other stuff as well ?'he thing is, I'm sure it's the same in thc Spanish resorts, like Sophie: all the Brits going there, and things like that, it's just - I don't know. Ruth: It is the same, Brits on holiday in Spain are a real nightmal-e

Sophie: Janct: Sophie: lanet:

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The women are scorning a group of Israeli tourists, who they encountered in a cafe, smoking hashish. Janet asks them "what have you clone while you have been here?" and she replies, on their behalf, "we sat here and we smoked, and then we got a motorbike." Both smoking hashish, and riding noisy motorbikes is associated with the iconic image of the tourist dupe. Accordingly, the statement is amusing. The others join in the amusing critique, but Janet is silent for a while. In her next utterance Janet says: "I mean we still partook in stuff going on there, we just did it more limited and we did other stuff as well." The short-circuititlg is indicated by the "I mean." The first "stuff" here refers to hashish. So while

246 A. GILLESPIE

Janet began by criticizing the Israeli tourists for doing little but smoke hashish, she ends potentially exposing herself to similar criticism, because she, and her colleagues, also spent sometime smoking hashish. Like Betty, she heard her description of an other, and found in it a resonance only too familiar: she realizes that she is talking about herself. As with Betty, the critique returns. Through the vocal gesture, the "they" becomes "me." However, unlike Betty, Janet does not capitulate to this collapse of boundary between self and other. She does not accept that she is equivalent to tourist dupes. Accordingly, Janet tries to reinstitute her difference. She says that "we just did it in a more limited way" and "we did other stuff as well." For Janet, these qualifications enable her to reclaim hcr position as distinct from "those" tourist dupes. There is a second dynamic of self-reflection evident in the above exchange, instigated by my utterance, "it is surprising how many negative comments I hear about them." Sophie, who had focused the topic on Israelis earlier, realizes the impression that she has may have created in my mind (i.e., being anti-Semitic), and apologetically she says, "I know it sounds awful." She then tries to defend her position by describing Israelis as "clique-y." This description however results in a partial short-circuit, and in her next utterance she recognizes that British tourists going to Spain are also "clique-y." Ruth comes to Sophie's aid and expediting the short-circuit she states that "it is the same with the Brits." The short-circuit, in this case, is only partial because although Sophie and Ruth are British, she does not seem to think that she might be "clique-y." This instantiation, seems to be more about undermining the in-group (British tourists) so as to avoid being positioned as critical of a specific Israeli group of tourists, and thus to avoid being seen as anti-Semitic: she saves face. In this second short-circuit the line between intrapsychic and interpersonal is difficult to draw. One cannot take my utterance out of the analysis. The dynamics that occur between utterances reoccur within utterances, and to try to separate the latter from the former seems nalve. To ask if this second short-circuiting would have occurred had I not interjected, or not even been present, is to miss the point. The fact is that this instance of self-reflection is social, and comes about through a shift of perspective within social interaction.

THE AMUSEMENT OF BECOMING OTHER

Short-circuiting is also evident in the Ladakhi discussions, though it is not at all as widespread as in tourists' discussions. Within the Ladakhi discourse, there is evidence of short-circuiting in the clash between privileg-

Becoming Other 247

ing culture or going forward. The following discussion is fi-om a group of young men, all of whom were living in Leh, though they grew up in the villages. Now that they feel urban, they are discussing their relation to the rural youth: Jigmet:

Tsering: Tashi:

Chakdor: Jigmet: Tsering:

And the youth in the villages think that in a city there is a lot of ENTERTAINMENT, they do everything and have lots of different DRESSES They think we have a GORGEOUS LIFE! And what do old people think, you know, they take the NEGATIVE SENSE, they talk about tile DRESS UPS chat it's not good. They think NEGATIVELY. And the young ones who are quite MATURED, they'll think tl~att l ~ eCITY LIFE is vcly beautiful, you can ENJOY anythillg you like in the CITY, that's why whatever FASHION wc arc having they adopt it in a moment. Go to a village wit11 a ncw FASHION and stay there for some time, they'll adopt it very soon - Rut isn't that the same to us, if a tourist comcs hcrc with a funny cap For villagers we have become tourists! [everyone laughs] Israelis for them! [continued laughter]

This group of urban men, from Leh, are talking about the perceptions that rural villagers have of them. TTvo perceptions are offered: The young villagers think that the ut-ban Ladakhis have a "gorgeous lifc" while the "old people" think "negatively." The young people are using the foiwardbackward discourse to make their cvaluation, whilc thc older people a1-e using the culture-fashion discourse.,Tn the city, the youth say, there is a choice of clothes to wear and most people choose to wear Western dress. While fi-om the perspective of the "old people" this is "not g o o d as it implies a rejection of the traditional dress, the gonchhn. Then Tashi says that the young villagers will copy the "fasl~ion"of the urban Ladakhis. This invites a parallel to the Ladakhi urbanites who copy the fashion of tourists, but Tashi does not see the parallel. Chakdor triggers this short-circuit by seeing the parallel. He says "isn't that the same for us." He is implying that he and his colleagues follo~vthe fashion of tourists, just like the rural youth follow the fashion of Leh. With this short-circuit, the positions change. At the beginning of the exchange these men were positioned as ha\~ing''fashion" and being role models for rural Ladakhis. After the short-circuit, however, these men are repositioiled as following tourist role-models.

Becoming Other 249

The amusement caused by this short-circuit has two sources. First, there is simply a switch of positions, which the group may feel as amusingly transgressive. Ladakhis rarely get a chance to take up the social position of tourists. Few Ladakhis travel outside India and get the opportunity to tour other countries-though they often imagine doing so. The same switch of positions is evident in Hasan's account of being mistaken for a tourist in Delhi (chapter 4, p. 94). In such incidents, the respect offered to tourists, is extended to self. The second source of amusement in the above short-circuit, is the fact that it reveals, to the group, a lack of self-awareness. Bergson (1900/191 I), in his study of the comic, argues that one feature we find particularly amusing is a lack of self-arvareness in self or others: It in not uncommon for a comic character to condemn in general terms a certain line of conduct and immediately afterwards afford at1 example of it himself: for instance. M. .Jourdain's teacher of philosophy flying into a passion alter inveighing against anger; Vadius taking a poem from his pocket after heaping ridicule on readers of poetry, etc. What is the object of such contradictions except to help us to put our finger on the obliviousness of the characters to their own actions? Inattelltion to self, and consequently to others, is what we invariably find. (1900/19 1 1, third chaptel; section one) In this case the short-circuiting happens not in self, but in the mind of other. Neither M. Jourdain's teacher nor Vadius becomes aware of the contradiction between their utterances and actions. If they did, the audience might be provided with a second laugh. The contradiction, then, is only evident for the audience. However, the Ladakhis, in the excerpt above, become aware of their own contradiction. They are their own audience, which arguably augments the thrill. They begin by belittling rural Ladakhis for copying them, the urban Ladakhis, onIy to become aware that they themselves have been copying the tourists in the same manner. If either these Ladakhis o r Vadius knew about the contradiction before speaking-and had made this explicit-then the amusement would be greatly reduced. It is, as Bergson suggests, the evident lack of self awareness that we find amusing.

THE MOTE-BEAM DIVERGENCE

In short-circuiting, the "they" or "you" becomes the "me." Norman, for example, reacts first to other tourists as "voyeurs" and only later does he see that he himself is a "voyeur." Betty criticizes other tourists for taking the festival as a "colorfuI performance" but then she realizes that she is

agrees with this evaluation. Janet makes fun of tourists who sit in cafes, smoking hashish, but then realizes that she has clone the same. Jigmet and Chakdor begin by thinking about how they are role models for the mral youth, only to realize that they themselves take tourists as their role models. And finally, we have seen how Marten, while criticizing tourist photographers who do not llave "a little relation" with the photographee, admits, briefly, that he takes sncaky photographs. In each of these cases we see how the opposition between self and other, which is initially instituted, subsequently collapses in selr-reflection. The temporal endurance of this collapse varies, and does not interest us at present. The issue at stake is the mcchanism. One clue as lo the mechanism is in t l ~ cfact that short-cil-cuiting occ~lrsmuch more fi-cqucntly in tourists' discussions than in Ladakhis' discussions. Wily are there far fewer instances of short-circuiting in the Ladakhi corpora than compared to the tourist corpora? This may be due to thc fact that the majority of these discussions were translated and transcribed, as compared to the tourist discussions which were analyzed in audio. TransIating and tratlscribing inevitably involves a loss of detail. I-Iorvcvcl; it is dificult to acccpt this as a full explanation. While it is possible that small hesitations, and self-mediations, might be lost, it is morc difftcult to see how whole changes of pronoun use coulcl be lost. Moreover, tourists' short-cii-cuiting is confined largely to thc traveler-tourist discourse. There is only one partial instance of tourist short-circuiting in rclation to Ladakhis, othenvise all tourist short-circuiting occurs in relation to other tourists. Accordingly, it is not the tourist discourse per se that is peculiar, but rather thcrc is something specific to the structure or the traveler-tourist discourse. Tourists occupy a precarious semiotic position: they scorn other tourists for being "typical tourists," and conceptualize themselves as "travelers," but they fail to see that many of their own actions are those of a "typical tourist." Short-circuiting, I want to argue, occurs when this disjunction collapses and other becomes self, or "me." Because this clisjunction is usually latent within tourists' discourse and action, tourists, we could say, are perpetually on the edge of short-circuiting. All they need is some impetus to redirect their attention back towards themselves-a gaze, a comment, or the sound of their own voice. Tourists seem to be caught in a particularly extreme form of what Icllheiser (1949, p. 51) calIed the "mote-beam mecl~anism,"that is the tendency to "perceive (and to denounce) in others certain characteristics, for example, prejudices, or blind spots, or icleologies, or ethnocentrism, or aggressiveness, which, strangely enough, we ignore in ourselves" (p. 5 1). The mote-beam mechanism, according to Ichheiser, is not cognitive, in a

Becoming Other 251 narrow sense, but is representational or cultural. The name of this divergence alludes to a passage in the Bible. Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? (Matthew, 7.1-7.5) From a Meadian standpoint, the disjunction is between belief and conduct: the individuals self-awareness, herlhis "me," and the individual's actions, her/his "I." Applying this distinction to tourists, then, reveals that tourists tend to have a traveler "me" and a tourist dupe "I." That is, they claim the position of being a traveler, but act like any other tourist. Moreover, they criticize other people for behaving like tourists, while hiling to recognize that they themselves act in this same way. The presence of the mote-beam divergence is clearly evident in the following excerpt from a discussion I had with a Dutch couple: Marten: AG: Marten: Karen: Marten:

We went to the Phyang festival, it was shocking What were you shocked about? About the tourists With the short sleeves, and with the cameras Totally no respect, no respect [....I in the festival there was a man, and a woman breast-feeding, and there was a man taking pictures from only meter distance, like on top of her, and I said "don't you think this is rude" AG: You said this1 Marten: But he was German, and he did not understand, he looked at me like "are you crazy" Marten and Karen report to me, a researcher on tourism, that they found the behavior of "the tourists" "shocking." "The tourists" are denigrated because they have "no respect": they neither wear the appropriate dress for a religious festival nor do they treat the Ladakhis with respect when they photograph them. Specifically, one of these tourists took a picture of a Ladakhi woman breast-feeding "from only a meter distance." The position of Marten and Karen within this narrative is clear. They position themselves against such tourists, and they even try to intervene on behalf of the breast-feeding woman. While "the tourists" have "no respect" for the Ladakhis, it is implied that Marten and Karen do have respect for the Ladakhis. Indeed, one would expect that they themselves would not engage in such photographic behavior.

AG: \That pictures have you taken? Marten: Mostly of landscapes! [laugh] and gonzf~a!and a few times of people, because at Kaltsang, this little town, its more like a tmck stop, and we were talking to people, and we took a pichure with a family, and it was different, because they said, "ok, can you take a picture and send," it was different because Karen: We had made fi-iends Marten: A bit, for a day or something, it's, it's, different AG: Yea, it's different when you have a relationship Marten: Yes, em, a bit of a relation, em, also, Karen: (Also when they) Marten: Also of people, em, really sneaky, blit em, but em, I'm sule they don't know, hut it's different fi-om shoving such a Icns in snmcnne's face from a meter distarice AG: Rut if you were going to photograph people, who would you chose to photograph? Marten: The old women - of course - and old mcn AG: Why? ILaren: Because they look nice Marten: Their characteristics [pause] but when you want to take a picture of an old woman, try to havc a little relation with them By asking "what picturcs have you taken?" I put both Marten and . Karen on the spot. They now Ilave to justifY their actions. First thcy confess to taking some photographs of pcople at Icaltsang, but emphasize that that their behavior is dir~crcntto that of the tourists they were p r e ~ i ously criticizing. The difference, they argue, is that they had formed a "I-elation"with the Ladakhis they photograph, thus, they claim, they are not in the categoly of sl~allowtourists. However, then Marten starts to hesitate. He says "Yes, em, a bit of a relation, em, also ... also of people, em, really sneaky, but em, but em." Here, I suggest, we see Marten, slowly, realising that he too has taken photographs of Ladakhis without having a "relation" with them. One cannot have a substantial relation with the photographee if one takes "really sneaky" photograpl~s.Marten's short-circuit, his recognitiotl that he has acted in way similar to the tourists he is criticizing is short-lived. As the exchange continues, Marten proceeds to fiirther criticize tourists who do not establish a relation with the photographee-yet he previously confessed to doing just this. The main dialogical fault line in Marten's subjectivity is a mote-beam divergence: he criticizes the behavior of other tourist photographers, while failing to see that his own conduct has been far from exernplaly. He and his wife Karen were only in Ladakh for a short visit, they were taking

252 A. GILLESPIE

sneaky photographs and moving on. Accordingly, when seen from the perspective of an other tourist, their actions would position them as typical tourists. Yet both Karen and Marten insist upon claiming a traveler position. Marten protests, perhaps too insistently, that his behavior is "different" from other tourists. This contradiction is not unusual at all, but applies to most of the tourists I met. What is interesting in the above excerpt, however, is how this dialogical fault line leads Marten toward a short-circuit that never quite occurs. The excerpt reveals, not only the presence of the mote-beam divergence in tourists' discourse, but it also reveals how close this can come to collapsing. In the traveler-tourist discourse, the boundary between self and other, between the traveler self and the tourist. dupe other, is precarious, and teeters on the edge of collapse. It is this precarious structure, I suggest, that accounts for the prevalence of short-circuiting among tourists.

SELF-REFLECTION AND SHARED DISCOURSES

When one thinks of self-reflection, one is probably thinking of self-mediation. It is the most prototypical form of self-reflection, in which an individual initially embedded in some activity or utterance, suddenly "stepsout" and distances him or herself from that activity. Ifwe take a Meadian standpoint, then we understand this distanciation in terms of taking the perspective of a more or less generalized other. Short-circuiting is a different dynamic. In short-circuiting self-reflection does not arise by taking the perspective of the other on self, rather, it arises by reacting (usually critically) toward the other and then suddenly seeing self in the other. In short-circuiting one ends up criticizing oneself in the same way that one criticized the other. In self-mediation one can puzzle how self is able to take the perspective of the other, but in short-circuiting there is no such puzzle, for self is clearly taking self's own perspective. However, short-circuiting begs its own question: how is it that self comes to see self in the other? Thus we have two problems. First, in self-mediation, how does self take the perspective of the other? Second, in short-circuiting, how does self identify with the other? I want to suggest that the answer to both quessymbol and the vocal gesture. tions lies in the significant Within any social act there are divergent yet complementary perspectives. These are divergent because they beIong do different social positions, yet they are complementary because they are part of the same social act, and thus each is an object for the other. Significant symbols entwine these divergent yet complementary perspectives, thus creating an architecture of intersubjectivity that enables people to both self-mediate from

Becoming Other 253

the perspective of the other, and short-circuit in the sense of identifying with the other. But we must also broaden our focus beyond individual significant symbols. There is also a role for larger discursive structures. The Ladakhis' discourse of cu1t~u.e-fashionand the tourists' discourse of traveler-tourist are central to the above instances of self-reflection. The gcncalogical analysis showed how these discourses were related to social acts. The Ladaklli discourse regarding Ladakhi culture ennvines traditional perspectives on wearing tllc gonchhn and gonzpa visiting with the reconstructed perspective of tourists. ?'he tourists' discourse of traveler-tourist entwines the perspectives of being a tourist on tour, and claiming to be a travclcl; with the perspective of a sceptical audience. In bot11 cases the disconrses arc formed out of combining multiple perspectivcs, thus cl-eating significant symbolic architectures of interwxljectivity. It is these significant syrnbolic stl-ucturcs, forgcd in the touring act, that enable both "stcpping-out" (selfmediation) and "stepping-in" (short-cil-cuiting)forrns of self-reflection. These architectures of intersubjectivity arc not inert, they are avect laden and deeply moral. The negative polcs ol' thcsc discourses (i.e., "Tashion'' and "tourist dupe") are collectively pt-oduccd mcans for gliding individ~~al action. If a tourist, in either utterance 01- deed, ~vandersinto the realm or tllc touristic alarm bells start to ring. The sarne applies To1. Ladakhis who become too keen on going foi-ivard or following fashion. The image of tlle tourist dupc and thc image of "fasliion" are negatively valued zones. They exist in opposition to the zones of preferl-ed action (Valsiuer, 1998, chapter 2). Thus the images of the "fashion Ladakhi" and the "tourist dupe" are not mirrors of actually-existing groups, thcy are social regulatoly devices, or ideals. These ideals are community constructions which arc thcn used by community members to evaluate each other and themselves from the perspective of the group. Because these images and evaluative dimensions have been collectively produced, through discussions, interaction, and the mass media, whenever anyone invokes these images and evaluative dimensions they are invoking the perspective of the group. MTeassume the generalized attitude of the group, in the censor that stands at the door of our image~yand inner conversations, and in the affir~natioil of the la3z.s and axioms of the universe of discourse. (Mead, 1932, p. 190)

By virtue of participating in the groups discourse (and the embedded val~~ations) the speaker or actor is able to regulate their behavior from the standpoint of the group. The mechanism is akin to the rules of a game (see chapter 2). Some action is privileged, and some action is denigratecl. But the real similarity lies in the significant symbolic structure. Just like a

254 A. GILLESPIE

rule, o r law, applies equally to self and other (so long as self and other are in the same social position), so these evaluative discourses apply equally to self and other. Criticizing fellow Ladakhis for following the fashion, means, as Padma realized, that one must subordinate oneself to that critique. Equally, if a tourist criticizes other tourists for being shallorv or rude, then that tourist must also subordinate him or herself to that critique. Vocal gestures, by virtue of being heard the same by aII, are a means to become other to oneself such that one is able to apply these moral discourses equally to self as to other.

CHAPTER 13

BECOMING OTHER TO ONESELF

How car1 an i~lrlividualget outside him-self (experientially) in wlch a way as to becornc an objcct to himself? This is the essential psychological problem of selfhood or self-consciousness. (Mcad, 1934, p. 138)

The problem of self-consciousness, or self-reflection, for Mead, is a problem of ho~vwe hccoine other to ourselves. How do we get o n thc outside of our own experience? Mead's answer is tllal tve take the pcrspcctive of the other. Taking part in social acts enables us to take each others' perspectives, thanks to position exchange, tile vocal gesture, and the significant symbol. The first analysis (chapters 7, 8, & 9) showed how the Ladakhi "me-ascultural" and the tourist "~ne-as-tourist-d~ipe" have been con st^-ucted within the touring act. Specifically, it was argued that the tourists' "me-astourist-dupe" arises by tourists taking the perspective of other tourists toward themselves. The Ladakhi "me-as-cultural," on the other hand, arises by Ladakhis imagining themselves from the standpoint of tourists. The second analysis (chapters 10, 1 1, & 12) focused upon the actual dynamics of self-reflection, showing how taking the perspective of the other can trigger the emergence of a new "me" and how instances of selfreflection can in fact be made explicable in terms of perspective-taking. Beco?rrtng Oilter: fiat11 Social Infernction l o Self-Relection, 255-269 Copyright O 2006 by Information Age Publishing All rights of reproduction in any for111resel-ved.

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Becoming Other 257

The Meadian interpretation of self-reflection is complex. Perspectivetaking is often seen as a problematic concept (e.g., Gergen, 1999, p. 125), and Mead's explanation of how perspective-taking occurs through position exchange and imagination within the social act may seem unwieldy. Maybe there are more parsimonious explanations? Four distinct theories of the construction of self-reflection can be identified: rupture theories, feedback theories, internalization theories, and Mead's theory of the social act. Let us consider, in turn, the extent to which each of these theories accounts for our data.

A RUPTURE INTERPRETATION?

Rupture theories posit that self-reflection arises when an individual's path of action is blocked o r when two or more possible avenues of action open up. Ruptured action instigates the thinking phase of action, the phase in which the individual's relation to the world is reconstructed in such a way as to enable the action to proceed. Peirce provides an early illustration of this idea, giving the example of paying for a taxi: If for instance, in a horse-car, I pull out my purse and find a five-cent nickel and five coppers, I decidc, while my hand is going to the purse, in which way I will pay my fare.... To speak of such a doubt as causing an irritation which needs to be appeased, suggests a temper which is imcomfortable to the verge of insanity. Yet looking at the matter minutely, it must be admitted that, if there is the least hesitation as to whether I shall pay the five coppers or the nickel (as there will sure to be, unless I act from some previously contracted habit in the matter), though irritation is too strong a word, yet I am excited to such small mental activities as may be necessary in deciding how I shall act.... Images pass rapidly through consciousness, one incessantly melting into another, until at last, when all is over-it may be in a fraction of a second, in an hour, or after long years-we find ourselves decided as to how we should act. (Peirce, 1878/1998, pp. 141- 142) As this convincing phenomenological example demonstrates, even a small irritation, or rupture, can stimulate a self-conscious stream of thought. Peirce must pay the taxi driver, but should he pay using the fivecent piece or the five coppers? The relations that Peirce must negotiate are between himself and his coinage (and his future needs of that coinage) and between himself and the expectant and possibly impatient taxi driver. The rupture of how to pay stimulates Peisce to reflect upon these relations, and thus to become self-aware. Dewey's (1896) theory of the act, discussed in chapter 1, is also a rupture theory. Dewey argues that in the ruptured situation, the object ceases,

from the perspective of the actos, to be objective and becomes, so to speak, subjective. Specifically, the object becomes subjective because the actor has two or more responses toward the object. Dewey gave us the example of a child reaching for a flame. The child is attracted to the flame because it looks like something to play with; but the child is also afraid of the flame because of a previous bum. Thus there a1-e tcvo contradictory responses in the child: to reach toward the flame and to withdraw from the flame. Returning to Peirce's example, we can say that he also has two contradictoly responses: to pay using the five-cent piece and to pay using the five coppers. In either case, according to Dewcy, it is the disjunction between thc responses that causes self-rcflection. While it is clearly evident that rupture is frequently a proximal cause of self-seflection, it is not, X suggest, a conlplete theoretical account. As Mead (1910) pointed out, there is notbing in having two colilradictoiy responses which necessarily leads to self-reflection. 111 nonhuman anirnals thcre are conflicting rcsponses, yet tllere is no sclf-consciotlsness. Pavlov (1 951), for example, trained dogs to salivate upon seeing a circle, and not to salivatc upor1 seeing an ellipse. I11 successive trials he reduced the diffcrcnce between the two coiltradictoiy sti~nuli,until tlie ellipse was almost a circlc. \When the stirnuli became difficult to differentiate, thus evoking two contradictoly responses, the dogs, usually placid, becarne li-antic and remained disturbed for weeks altclward. I'avlov called this "cxperirnental neurosis." Assuming that these dogs did not become self-reflective (and these is no evidence to suggest they did), then thesc experiments show that contradictory rcsponses can coexist without leading to selI'-reflection. Let us leave Pavlov's dogs and consider the case of the Ladakhis' reflection on their culture. Have the Ladakhis been led to the self-a\varencss of "me-as-cultural" by the coexistence of contradictory responses? One could argue that when tourists arrived in Ladakh, with all their modern Seal; they elicited contradictoly responses: On the one hand Ladakhis were tempted to copy the tourists, while on the other hand they wanted to resist them, and assert their own identity. This argument accords with the fact that Ladakhis do discuss and self-reflect around this contradiction. Recall, for example, Thundup (chapter 12, p. 236) arguing that Ladakh is "50 years" behind the tourists and thus needs to develop. While making the argument Thundup interrupts himself to say "but we should preseive our culture too." Surely this is an instance of contradictoly responses (wanting to follow the tourists and to remain different) creating selfreflection? The same point can be made for tourists. Laura (chapter 12, pp. 231-233), after describing her desire to see "proper India" reflects that this is a "clich~d"aspiration, and thus demonstrates two conflicting impulses. On the one hand, she wants to be a travelel-,while on the other

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hand she sees such an aspiration as being "clich6d." So here again, can we explain Laura's act of self-reflection in terms of contradictory impulses? Looking again at these instances of self-reflection reveals that they do not simply entail two contradictory responses in the sense implied by either Dewey or Peirce. Both Thundup and Laura have two responses each originating from a different social position within the social act. Both Thundup and Laura while engaged in their own utterances, and voicing their own perspective, suddenly shift and react to themselves from the standpoint of their audience. Thus we are not dealing with any old set of contradictory responses, such as the impulse to juggle and to do some cooking. The contradictory responses that we are dealing with originate from two different social positions within the same social act. They are different because they belong to different social positions (for example, Laura narrating a tale and her audience listening) and yet they are also complementary because each has the other as its object (Laura is orienting to her audience, and her audience is orienting to her). We are not dealing here with contradictory responses from the same perspective, as described by Dewey, namely, the child reaching for the plaything and then withdrawing with a burn. Instead we are dealing with ttvo responses that belong to different perspectives. Ruptures may be the proximal cause of self-reflection. Tourists' unactualized expectations may lead to self-reflective awareness such as "meimagining-things." But, first, this is not a simple contradictory response. It implies reacting to self from the outside. And second, there is nothing in the rupture theory to explain how this second response gets within the individual. The rupture theory is also inadequate when we approach the problem from the other side: Why do contradictory responses so rarely cause selfreflection? When examining short-circuiting we concluded that this form of self-reflection arises, in part, due to a widespread contradiction among tourists. Tourists talk as if they are travelers, but behave like tourist dupes. Moreover, they openly criticize the actions of other tourists while failing to see that they themselves act in the same way. Why do these contradictory responses so rarely lead to self-reflection? Why do most tourists not even recognize this contradiction? The rupture theory of self-reflection cannot explain this fact.

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rupture. These theories assume that the other perceives more about self than self can perceive. The reflective distance from self entailed by selfreflection first exists in the mind of other. This "surplus" (Bakhtin, 19231 1990; Gillespie, 2003) can be fed back to self by other, such that self can learn to see self from the perspective of other. In this sense, feedback theories assume that the other provides feedback to self in the same way that a mirror provides feedback about appearance that we cannot perceive unaided. An early variant of' this theo~ycan be found in the writings of Adam Smith:

1

Were it possible that a l ~ t ~ m creature an could grow up to tnanhood it1 soine solitaly place, without any cominunication with his otv11 species, he could no more think of his olvn charactel; of' the ptopric~yor dcliierit oS his 01~11sentiments and conduct, of the beauty or deformity of liis 01~11mincl, than the beauty or defotn~ityof his own face. All or these ale objects which he cannot easily see, wliicl~~laturallylie docs riot look at, and ~vithregard to which he is provided with no mirror which can present them to liis vicw. Bring him into socicty, and h e is iinrnediately provided with the rnirror wliicli hc wanted bcforc. It is placed in the countenance and behaviour of' thosc hc lives ~vith.( 1 759/ 1982, p. 1 10)

I

For Adam Smith it is "lcllo~vman" who teaches self the value of self's actions, who is a "mirror" redirecting self's attention to the meaning of self's own actions. Growing up alone, without such a mirl-t~l;Smith writes, there is nothing to make a person rcflcct upon l~iin/herself.The "mirror" is the "countenance and behaviour" of the othec Mead himself, as discussed in chapter 1, toyed with the feedback theory. Hc argued that it was in~uficientsince many nonhuman anirrials live in complex societies and are constantly exposed to feedback froln others, yet they do not have a consciousness of self. Nevertheless, let us apply the theory to the analysis of tourist-Laclakhi ellcounters and see how it works out. First, one could argue that the Ladakhi "me-as-cultural" has been constructed through feedback within tourist-Ladakhi interactions. Tourists' photograplly has picked out the importance of the goncliha, and tourists' sightseeing has picked out the importance of the Buddhist monasteries Because of tourists' actions towards both go?lchhn and the monasteries the meaning of these objects has changed for Ladakhis. The theory could also be used in an attempt to explain the step-by-step Lead up to self-reflection. Recall Ben's self-mediation. Ben began by telling me about his trip dolvn Leh valley on a motorbike, mentioning that he took photographs of the monasteries. I asked him, with some surprise, whether he even stopped the motorbike to take the photographs. It seems reasonable to argue that Ben's subsequent selfreflective comments, that he took photographs because "that is what you

I

A FEEDBACK INTERPRETATION? I

The defining feature of feedback theories of self-reflection, compared to the rupture theories, is the presence of an active other. In feedback theories, it is the imphation of the action of the other for self that causes a

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are supposed to do," was prompted by my questioning. That is to say, feedback from me seems to have been a proximal cause of his self-reflection. The idea could be extended to all instances of self-reflection. One could argue that in every case there is some social feedback, a raised eyebrow or a second glance, that stimulates the self-reflection. While the social feedback theory is doubtless important, it is unable to account for the evaluative aspect of self-reflection. Social feedback can explain why the gonchha has been picked out as an element of Ladakhi culture, but it cannot account for why Ladakhis "should" wear the gonchha. Nor can the feedback theory explain why the reverse gaze makes tourists embarrassed. It is not simply that the reverse gaze draws attention to the tourists' photographing activity. There is something more. The significance of the reverse gaze is in the perspective that the tourist photographer attributes to the Ladakhi-it is this that causes the embarrassment and shame. It is not the actions of the other, but the perspective of the other, that causes the social emotions of pride, shame, and embarrassment, This is why Ladakhis debate whether tourists "respect" Ladakh. What matters is not the actions of the tourists as much as the perspective of the tourists. Accordingly, we need to seek a theory that takes account of the perspective of the other.

AN INTERNALIZATION INTERPRETATION?

The idea that thought is a self-reflective internal dialogue with absent others goes back at least to Plato (e.g., Sophist, 263e; TheaeteCus, 190). Forms of internalization are evident in the theories of Freud (in the formation of the superego), Bakhtin and especially Vygotsky. Today this line of theory is carried forward in work on the dialogical self (Hermans, 2001; Josephs, 2002). Within this line of theorizing, one can conceptualize self-reflection as arising through internalizing the perspective that the other has upon self, followed by self taking the perspective of other upon self. Or more generally, one could think of self-reflection as arising through the internal dialogue between internalized perspectives. There are, however, disputes over how the metaphor of "internalization" should be understood (Matusov, 1998). Wertsch and Stone (1985, p. 163) has called the idea that social relations are simply "transmitted into psychological structure "uninteresting and trivial." While some theorists make this mistake, Vygotsky (1997, p. 106) himself emphasized that the process of internalization is a process of "transformation," rather than simple "transmission" (see also Lawrence & Valsiner, 1993). The process of transformation is clearly evident Vygotsky's analysis of the emergence of pointing (1997, pp. 104-105).

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According to Vygotsky, the child becomes able to point only when he/ she is able to reflect upoil the meaning of the pointing from the standpoint of others. How does this come about? "Initially," Vygotsky (1997, p. 104) writes, "the pointing gesture represents a simply unsuccessful grasping movement directed toward an object and denoting a future action." At first the child is not self-conscious of pointing, and thus is not trying to communicate anything. Rather, the child is simply reaching for something nut of reach. However, from the perspective of the mother, the child's reaching is meaningful, it indicates that the child desires the reached-for object. VYgotsky(p. 105) states: "In response to the unsuccessLul grasping movement of the child, there arises a 1-eactionnot on the part of the object, but on the part of an other person." The grasping first has the meaning of pointing for the rx~othel;and only later has *leaning for the child. It is only when the grasping becomes a meanirlgft~lgesture I'or the child that we can say the child is pointing, for it is only then that the child knows the meaning ofs his/her gesture for others. The child, Vygotsky (p. 105) writes, "becomes for himself what he is in liirnself through what hc lnanifests for others." 'I'hat is to say, the child becornes self-awa1-eof his/her own being througll how lielshe appears to others. Sunirnarizi~gthc emergence of self-reflective nicaning througl~internalization, Vygotsky (1997, p. 105) writes: "Evc~yhigher lnental f~inction was external because it was social before it becaille an internal, strictly mental function; it was formerly a social relation of two people." Social relations, like cotlversations, become internalized and constitute the higher mental functions. Self-reflection, for cxample, can be understood as a change of perspective within the individual (analogous to the change of perspective between people taking turns in a conversation). "I relate to myself as people related to me. Reflection is a dispute" (Vygotsky, 1989, pp. 56-57). The internalization thesis accords with our empirical analysis of selfreflection. It is an empirical fact that the discourse of tourists contains the voice, or perspective, of Ladakhis. The reverse is also evident. The discourse of Ladakhis does contain the voice of tourists. Moreover, when we analyzed these voices of the other within self we found them to instigate much affect. Shame and embarrassment cluster around these perspectives of the other within self. Vygotsky's idea that "reflection is a dispute" is clearly evident in many of the instances of self-reflection. Recall Janet and her traveling companions' dispute with the travel agent who said "twenty quid is nothing to you" and Sonam's dispute with the tourists who ask "why do you eat meat?" In both of these instances, and others, self-reflection is indeed a dispute between internalized perspectives. While the theory of internalization adequately describes the instances of self-reflection reported, and unlike the feedback theoiy, is able to

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Becoming Other 263

account for the affective component, this theory is nonetheless also lacking. The outstanding problem is how to account for the process of internalization. How is the perspective of the other internalized? And how does this perspective come into dialogue with self?

THE SOCIAL ACT

Mead's theory of the social act is a theory of how we get the perspective of the other inside of self. While most theories of the social basis of mind emphasize the general importance of social interaction, Mead's emphasis is much more specific (and societal). The theory of the social act focuses not upon social interaction in general but upon institutionalized patterns of interaction (Gillespie, 2005). A defining feature of humans, for Mead, is that they move among positions within a relatively stable social, or institutional, structure. Of course social structure is not unique to humans. An ant colony is structured by the social positions of queen, workers, foragers, nurses, and soldiers. But one does not find, in such societies, the phenomenon of extm~kveposition exchange - within the inslilulionul structure. Humans, on the other hand, frequently exchange social positions within their institutions, or social acts. Consider the social act in which tourists narrate their travels-the self-narrating act (described in chapter 4),There are two main social positions: the tourist narrating and the other person, possibly also a tourist, listening. All tourists will have been in both of these social positions. Certainly, few tourists get to travel through Ladakh without propagating, and being subjected to, tourist tales. Thus tourists cultivate both perspectives. They cultivate the perspective of the narrator who wants to tell a good story, and who most likely wants to claim the position of traveler, thus winning recognition from the audience. But they also cultivate the perspective of being subjected to the pretentious claims of travelers, and of mocking the narrator for trying too hard. By integrating these perspectives, tourists are then able to regulate their own acts of self-narration from the standpoint of their own criticisms of other tourists' narratives. Laura begins by describing herself as searching for "proper India" and then changes perspective, commenting that such a remark "sounds rather clichid." Guy begins by describing the "happy" villagers that he has seen, and then changes perspective, commenting that maybe he is imagining things. In both cases Laura and Guy, who are in the social position of narrator, briefly take the perspective of their audience. They question their own utterances in the same way that they might question the utterances of an other. However, having previously been in the social position of the other, within a social act, does not mean that self will necessarily take the per-

spective of the other. We have seen that tourists certainly fail to do this thus creating a mote-beam divergence. Most tourists, like Marten (chapter 12, p. 251), criticize the actions of other tourists (for taking photographs, for not engaging in the local culture, etc.) while engaging in such actions themselves. In such cases, the perspective of taking photographs is not integrated with the perspective of critically obsei-iling another tourist taking a photograph. The experience of criticizing other tourists for telling traveler tales or for taking photographs, is quite different to the experience of actually telling a tale oneself or taking a photograph oneself. How is it that these two, quite different experiences, have become connected in the minds of self-reflective tourists? How is it that tourists come to treat tllemselses in the sarnc way that they treat others? The answer, I have argued, is in the "peculiar importance ol'thc vocal gesture." The vocal gesture is of utmost importance because it is reflexive (Farr, 1997; Mcad, 1912). It sounds roughly the same to self as to ochei: Self and othel; being in different social positions, are, it1 a sense, in diflerent enviI-onmcnts. Different features of the envimn~nentare salient for each, and each is an object in the environment of the other. Even visual perception will he different for each. The tourist narrating her tale lias her mind filled with the imagery of the tale, while her aurlience rnay be thinking about the narrator's never-ending tale, or its self-aggraildizing nature. Yet all the vocal gestures are experienced rougllly the same by both. Thus the vocal gesture is the bridge between the two or more situations that cornprisc a social act. Upon hearing themselves speak, tourist narrators can react to themselves as if they were other. They can comment upon tlicir own utterances in jusl the same manner as tlicy might coniment upon the utterances of an other. The vocal gesture proved to be important in all the analyses of selfreflection, for both tourists and Ladakhis. The renegade voice (chapter 1 1 ) escapes once the speaker hears what he or she has said and finds that it conveys more meaning than intended. I11 self-mediation (chapter 12) too, the sound of the speaker's voice caused a change of perspective. And finally, in short-circuiting (chapter 13) we found that it was the sound of the voice, specifically the description of the othel; that caused a change of perspective. Looking across the instances of self-reflection reported in chapters 1 1 and 12 the reader will notice that there is a distinct bias. When we ask from which perspective people are reflecting upon tl~emselves,the answer is usually that they are taking the perspective of their own group. Tourists take the perspective of tourists and Ladakhis take the perspective of Ladakhis. It is actually relatively rare that self-reflection arises through tourists taking the perspective of Ladakhis, or through Ladakhis taking the perspective of tourists. Why is this? We set out to study tourist-lacla-

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khi encounters assuming that this encounter would produce self-reflection, but we have found that most self-reflection is occurring through tourist-tourist encounters and Ladakhi-Ladakhi encounters. Can we explain this in terms of the theory of the social act? Considering this question leads us to recognize a limitation of the idea of position exchange, and simultaneously to recognize its importance. The first point to note is that there has been minimal position exchange between tourists and Ladakhis, but there has been maximal position exchange within these groups. That is to say, tourists have not had the experience of being Ladakhis, but they have had the experience of many different tourist positions. For example, most tourists have narrated tourist tales, and listened to other tourists' narrations, and most tourists will have taken photographs, and have criticized the photographing behavior of others. Few Ladakhis have been in any of the social positions that tourists occupy. Yet most Ladakhis have been in the various Ladakhi positions: they have tried to preserve their culture but also felt "backward," they have followed the fashion and also criticized others for doing so. Given these sets of experiences, tourists have greater resources for taking the perspectives of other tourists than for taking the perspectives of Ladakhis, and vice versa. The utility of the concept of position exchange is supported by the greater ability to take the perspective of others within one's social group than outside of it. Howevel; a problem arises. How can we explain the instances of taking the perspective of the other social group that do occur? In the absence of position exchange, how can we explain the fact that Ladakhis and tourists can (to some extent) take each others' perspectives? Both tourists and Ladakhis engage in reconstructive work in hying to imagine the perspective of the other. In the absence of position exchange each group is forced to draw upon a range of symbolic resources in order to imagine the perspective of the other. Tourists draw upon the discourses of Orientalism and modernity, they draw upon guidebooks and films. Ladakhis make much use of Buddhism. The image of the hungry ghost is used to imagine the motivational structure of tourists and the Buddhist notion of nirvana is used to imagine tourists' perspective on traditional Ladakh. Tourists, according to this reconstructed perspective, are touring traditional Ladakh because it is a form of life that is beyond desire and suffering-it is outside of the wheel of life. Less flatteringly, Ladakhis are liable to use their understanding of caste in order to anchor tourists' resistance to drinking Ladakhi water. Within Ladakh there is a taboo barring middle and upper caste people from sharing a cup with a low caste person. When Ladakhis reverse this perspective, when they use it to conceptualize their own relation to tourists, they find themselves positioned in

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the lower caste position. This resource, then, can lead Ladakhis toward self-reflective discomfort. Both tourists and Ladakhis are elaborating discourses that doinesticate not only the actions of the other but also the perspective of the other. The mechanism of this construction seems to be the generalizing of self's own experiences and attributing them to the other: using self's own experience to imagine or simulate the perspective of the other. This is particularly clear with the reverse gaze whcrc we have seen tourists, in the absence of being able to take thc actual perspective of tourists, seem to be attributing to Ladakhis their own perspective. They assume that Ladakhis find tourist photography as offensive as they do.

SIGNIFICANT SYMBOLS, SEMIOTIC MEDIATION, AND SELF-REFLECTION

The pmblcmatic of self-reflection can be stated in terms of the association of ideas wittlin the stream of thought. Returning to Dewey's basic idea, thcrc is goal directed action. When this action becomes blocked, 01- there is a rupture, then a stream of thought is initiated. This strearri of rhought is an attempt to reconstruct llie path of' action, such that llie act can 131-0ceed to-rvards its goal, Mead's acldition to this basic scheme was to argue that the stream of thought is often social. What occurs in the stream of thought, Mead argued, is not just a strearri of assnciatcd ideas, as described by James, but repeated shifting between perspectives, with each perspective originating within a different social position within the given social act. The self-reflective stream of thought, that which jumps from one perspective to the next-this is the I/rne dynamic. In nonhuman animals, i-uptured action may stimulate thought, but not self-reflective thought. Nonhuman animals do not see themselves within the problem situation from the perspective of others. Humans, l~o~vevel;become objects ("me") ~vithinthe ruptured situation, and humans, by reacting to themselves from the standpoint of others within the social situat'Ion, become agentic actors within that i-uptured situation. Mead's whole theo ~ yof the social act is an account of how the perspectives of others become part of the stream of thought. The stream of thought has been a longstanding problematic. What leads from one idea to the next? Is the movement between ideas predictable? Are there different forms of association between ideas? Early attempts to address these questions sought to identify the so-called "laws of association." According to Aristotle, ideas could be associated to each other in terms of continuity, similarity and/or contrast. Hobbes adds to this list the argument that during nondirective thought, our train of

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thought follows upon a previous train of perceptions. The content of thought, according to Hobbes, comes from empirical or sensuous experience and consequently, the dynamic, or transition, between thoughts comes from transitions of which we have had sensuous or empirical experience. Behaviorism refined and reduced the forms of association to the associations of stimuli contiguous in time, and associations of stimuli with responses. On the other hand, psychoanalysis has diversified and enriched the reputed forms of association by pointing toward the visceral unconscious association of ideas, symbolism, visual similarity, and wordplay. These forms of association, despite their diversity, are left wanting when we try to explain the self-reflective stream of thought that is instigated in humans by ruptured action. The problem is that these theories tend to focus upon similarity of form and function, and thus provide no account of a change of perspective. But literary studies of the stream of thought, such as James Joyce's Ulysses and especially Dostoyevsky's Notes fiom the Unihrground, show clearly that there is more to a stream of thought than association based on similarity of hnction o r perception. The stream of thought, at least in humans, does not operate at a single level. The foregoing analyses have shown how tourists and Ladakhis, when self-reflecting, are turning upon themselves and questioning the basis of their previous thoughts and utterances. Any account of the stream of thought, then, is going to have to take account of thoughts operating at different levels. Within cultural psychology it is usually accepted that signs, or semiotic elements, create distanciation. Valsiner (2001) has presented a model of semiotic mediation, or the stream of thought, as operating at several levels of generality, or more precisely, at different levels of distanciation from experience. While nonhumans are trapped in their perceptual fields (Kohler, 1917/1925) humans are able to distance themselves from ongoing activity to various degrees (Valsiner, 2000, p. 50). At the most basic level is undifferentiated experience of feelings and images which remain unnamed and unreflected upon. This is the level of embodied experience that we share with nonhuman animals. Moving up a level we find signs and words which name, and mediate, the experiences at the most basic level. At higher Ievels there are more complex sign systems that also regulate, constrain and channel experiences at the most basic level. This model introduces self-reflection into the stream of thought. The stream of thought is not just one thought foIIowing another, but one thought reacting to and modifying the previous thought with more o r less self-reflection. Empirical research has demonstrated the movement of thought between these levels (Valsiner, 2003; Zittoun, 20061, and the present research could be added to this empirical support. There is then, little

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doubt, on the basis of the empirical evidence, that the stream of thought needs to be theorized in terms of levels of distanciation or generality. Horvevel; the research to date leaves one issue underexplored, namely the exact mechanisms rvhich enable signs to create distanciation or self-reflection. What is the property of signs, or setniotic elements, that enables distanciation or self-reflection? The idea that a sign sitnply stands for the signified in a direct relation of representation is insuflicient. If signs only stand for something or some relation to the wol-ld, then why do we not c o n f ~ ~ s e the sign with that something? Moreover, ~7hyshoulcl these signs create distanciation? Fire ants leave phervrnone trails upon the discoveiy of a food source. Any fire ant which cncaunters the pheromone trail will follow the trail to~vardthe food source. The pllervtnone trail does "stand for" or c suggest that the phew"indicate" the existence of food. Yet no o ~ l would rnotle trail, by virtue oC mediating the ants' behaviot; creates distanciation. The foregoing analysis of self-reflection, or distancing, suggests that something more complex is going 011. The analysis has shown that sellreflection is fundamentally social. Chapter 11 showed that the voice of the othcr arising withiti self does trigger a distanciation from self. Fl~rthermore, chapter 12 sho~t7cdthat instances of self-reflection can he macle explicable in terms of perspective-taking. 111 short, the empirical data strongly links thc problematic of self-reflection, or distancing, with perspective-taking. By perspective-taking we do not mean taking the actual perspective of the othel; but rather generalizing an aspect of self's o-cvn experience, from when sclf was in a comparable social position, to the other. But the argument that self-reflection occurs by virtue of people reacting to themselves from perspectives cultivated in other social positions raises a new problematic: how can ideas originating in different social positions become associated together? To account for how ideas originating in different social positions within the same social act become associated together in the mind of a single individual is a formidable challenge. That ideas, or experiences, are associated on the basis of perceptual similarity or similarity of fiinction is relatively easy to explain-we just need to appeal to the generalizatio~lof a response. But why should a tourist while telling the group about the "happy" Ladakhi villagers suddenly turn upon himself and question whether this is an illusion? Why should a Ladakhi \vhile passionately arguing for modernization, suddenly change topic and say that Ladakh must also preserve its culture? Why should a tourist while engaged in criticizing other tourist photographers suddenly turn and see her self as one of "them?"

268 A. GILLESPIE

The answer, I argue, is to be found in Mead's conception of the significant symbol. From a Meadian perspective the ant's pheromone trail is a symbol, but it is not a significant symbol. The pheromone trail does call out the response to food, but it calls out no complementary response. For Mead a significant symbol calls out two or more responses within a given social act. A significant symbol for Mead has the same structure as a social act. In a socia1 act there are two or more social positions, each with its own perspective. Significant symbols evoke these two or more perspectives, thus binding the otherwise isolated perspectives together. Evoking a significant symbol is thus evoking the whole social act from all of the pmspectives embedded within it. In this sense the significant symbol does not have the same single meaning for all who hear it. Rather, it evokes the same complex of divergent meanings for all who hear it. This is what Mead (1922, p. 161) means when he writes: "It is through the ability to be the other at the same time that he is himself that the symbol becomes significant." I would emphasize "at the same time." For if self simply moved from the perspective of self to the perspective of other there would be no selfawareness. Self-awareness implies being both self and other at the same time. It implies being both a part of self's ongoing activity, and able to react to that activity from the standpoint of a specific other or the generalized standpoint of the group. It is easiest to understand the peculiar structure of the significant symbol by returning to the levels of semiotic mediation described by Valsiner (2001). The usual understanding of the sign is that it stands for some experience at a lower level. The significant symbol, however, always stands for two or more experiences at lower levels. Specifically, we must assume that the experiences at the lower levels are socially structured. One set of basic experiences, for example pertains to the social position of self-narration and entails an orientation to differentiating oneself from other tourists and maybe even self-aggrandizement. Then there is a second set of basic experiences that pertains to the social position of listening to someone narrate their travels which entails a different set of experiences such as boredom, feeling upstaged or feeling that one has heard such a tale before. Thus, at the lower level, we have two differentiated pools of socially structured experience which are complementary. These experiences are differentiated because they belong to different social positions, yet they are complementary because they belong to the same social act (i.e., the self-narration act). The experiences are complementary because each has the other as its object: the experience of narration entails an orientation to the audience and the experience of listening entails an orientation to the narrator. Given this differentiated field of basic experience, the significant symbol is the integration of these experiences at the higher IeveI. The significant symbol does not fuse these two

Becoming Other 269

experiences: the dynamic is one of both differentiation and integration. The integration occurs through the social act, through the dynamics of position exchange and the vocal gesture. The end result is a significant symbolic structure linking two domains of experience belong to two different yet complementary social positions within a social act), and thus crafting a new path of association. This path of association does not move on the basis of similarity of perception or function, but moves between perspectives within a social act. In the empirical instances of self-reflection that we have examined, it is not function or perceptual similarity that links one tliouglit to tlie next in the stream of thought. That is not to say that such associations are not evident, they are, but they cannot account for self-reflection. Self-reflection entails an intersubjcctivc shift or pcrspcctivc within a given social act. Laura, for example, begins to narrate her tourist tales. She is in the social position of narrator, while I and her companion listen. As she speaks she changes perspective, she reflects that her comments sound "clicli6d." At this point, although she is ostensibly in the social position of narrator, her "I" is actually in tlie social position of' thc audicncc-shc is listening to her narration. She has changed positions, at the level of ideation, within the social act. The change of perspective is not arbitraly, it has a logic. There is a pattern that associates these ideas within licr strcam or thought, but it is not based 011 percepttlal similarity or function. In selfrcflcctive thought, such as this, "the lines of association follow the lines of the [social] act" (Mead, 1934, p. 18).

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INDEX AbeIsen, B., 63, 169 Abercrombie, 7.J., 56, 160, 167 Act, description of, 10-13 Ackams, V., 78 Adler, J., 96 Allen, B., 58 Ancieptl Ff~lttres, 59, 167 Anderson, 1,137, 22 l Ash, J., 51 Auts~in,J., 45

I I

I

13akhtin, M., 155-158, 259, 260 Bartlett, F. C., 41, 57 Bateson, G., 152, Baucr, M. IV., 40, 41, I02 Becker, G., 3 Beckel; H., 43 Benjamin, IV., 8 1 Bergel; l?, 6 Bergson, H., 6, 248 Bertelsen, K. B., 147, 189, 190 Billig, M., 106 Bishop, P, 56, 84 Bluiner, H., 2,43, 69 Boescl~,E. E., 226 Bourdieu, I?, 37, 96 Bray, J., 56 British Broadcasting Corporation, 56

Brunei; J. S., 31, 75, 82, 83, 171 Biihler, I<., 20 Capezza, N., 207 Cartesian paradigm, 3-9, 42, 205 Chane): E., 175 Crawsha~v,C., 64, 83 Crick, M., 5 1, 63 Crook, J. II., 52 Cultural stream, 35-42, 48, 159, 169, 203 Custance, D. M., 44 Danzigel; K., 206 Dal-ivin, C., 6-8 Dallies, C., 5 cle Waal, C., 43 Delumeau, J., 55 Descartes, R., 3-19,42, 205 Desmond, J. C., 5 1 Dewey,J., 1-14, 17, 38, 61, 106, 156, 256-258 Dialogical Self, 47, 199, 227, 260 Dostoyersky, F., 45, 266 Dunreen, G., 38, 39, 42, 60, 152, 220 Ericsson, K. A., 206-207 Essentialism, 3-6

284 A. GILLESPIE Farr, R. M., 2, 23, 39,42, 137, 221, 263 Feedback theory, 13-16, 258-260 Feifer, M., 122 Film, 34-38, 159, 167, 177, 22 1,264 Foster, J. L., 40, 220 Francke, A. H., 189, 55 Franklin, A., 5 1 , 1 18 Freud, S., 209,260 Galton, F.,60 Galwan, G. R., 61, 157, 180-181 Games, 28-35 Gaskell, G., 40,41 Gergen, K. J., 256 Geuss, R., 157 Gillespie, A., 3, 15, 17, 38,43,45, 60, 83,92,259,262 Glaser, B. G., 43 Goffian, E., 43,87, 185, 186 Guidebooks, 37,59-61,62,77, 79, 112, 1 18-119, 174, 178, 187, 197, 264 Herrnans, H., 47, 260 Ifidden Faces of Ivtdia, 56-58 Hilton, J., 56 Hobsbarum, E., 75 Holland, D., 85 Howarth, C., 39,42

"I," 2 1-24,45-47, 86, 194, 200, 205, 209,211, 212, 214, 218, 220, 225,231,234,241,269 Ichheiser, G., 203, 249 Imagination, 28,35-42, 55-59,65, 121, 167, 201-203, 218, 232, 256 Internal dialogues, 47, 21 1-228, 260 Internalization, 260-262 Intersubjectivity, 19, 25, 30-35,45, 48, 88, 99, 252-253 James,\V.,3,6,9, 10, 13, 14, 15, 17, 21,22, 38,46, 125, 206, 265 Jodelet, D., 40,41 Johnson, M., 42 Josephs, I. E., 227, 260 Jovchelovitch, S., 40 Joyce, J., 266

Becoming Other 285

Kearney, M., 5 1 Kirchner, W., 6 1 Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, B., 51 Knight, R., 163 Kohler, W., 266 Kuper, A., 167 Ladakh, description of, 52-62 Lakoff, G., 42 Larsen, S., 63, 169 Lawrence,J. A., 260 Levi-Strauss, C., 1'78 Liminality, 62-65, 89 Liska, A, 73 Lofgren, O., 5 1,63 Lonely Planet, 59, 60, 108, 118-119, 160, 167, 174-175, 197 Lopez, D. S., 55, 56, 65 Lost Horizon, 56 Luckmann, T., 6 Luria, A. R., 130 Lyons, W., 206 MacCannell, D.,5 1,63, 72, 118, 169, 171 Markov6, I., 5, 22,40,47, 207 Martin, J., 45 Matusov, E., 260 "Me," 21-24, 27, 39,42,46,47, 64, 85, 99, 101, 122, 123, 124, 127, 151, 152,153, 154, 156, 157, 160, 161, 169, 176, 177, 179, 180, 184, 188, 189, 194, 195, 200, 203, 209, 211, 214, 218, 219, 225,227, 230,231-240,241-246, 250,255,265 Mead, G. H., 1-48, 61, 63,66, 69, 79, 89, 96, 98, 106, 137, 153, 155, 156, 158, 163, 173, 197, 205, 207-209, 211, 212, 217, 221, 225, 227, 228, 229-234, 241, 243, 250,252, 253,255-269 Merleau-Ponty, M., 207,228 Moghaddam, F. M., 199 Morrione, T. J., 2,43 Morris, C., 20 Morris, K. J., 3

Moscoirici, S., 39-4 1, 112 Mote-beam divergence, 248-252, 263 National Geographic, 36, 56, 58, 160, 167, 167,243, 244 Nietzsche, F., 6, 157-158 Noi-berg-Hodge, H., 59

Opie, I., 29, 31, 33 Opie, l?, 29, 31, 33 Osmaston, 1-1. A, 52 kramcswaran, R., 58 Pavlov, I. F!, 257 Peirce, C. S., 3, 5, 10, 20, 256, 257, 258 Rrspective, dclinition 01; 17 Perspectivism, 8- 10 Photography, as a social acl, 38-39, 64, 71, 80-90. 98, 105, 121, 122, 167, 170, 1'73, 178, 192, 242, 259,265 Pigg, S. L., 15'7 Play, 17-19, 28-35, 62, 63, 65, 66, 89, 90 Position cxcliangc, 18, 19, 24, 27-33, 35, 36, 39, 43,44, 48, 66, 71, 79, 85, 89,03-95, 97, 98, 99, 173, 177, 184, 200-203, 255, 256, 262,264,269 Prcbcnscn, N. K., 63, 169 Psychologists' fallacy, 8-10 Ranger, T.,75 Renegade voice, 2 13-228,238,263 Ritzer, G., 73 Rizvi, J ., 52, 189 Rommetveit, R., 23, 30, 158 Rorty, K.,6, 42 Rupture theory, 12, 256-258 Said, E. W, 55, 163 Self-mediation, 2, 16, 66, 229-24 1, 249,252,259,263 Self-narration, as a social act, 96-98, 153, 171, 174, 176, 177, 184, 200,234,262,268,269

Serving, as a social act, 89-95, 96, 98, 99, 153, 159, 17 1, 185, 188,204 Seve~lYean in Tibet, 36, 22 1 Shei~voocl,IJ.,3 1 Shibutani, T., 43 Short-circuits, 229, 23 1, 24 1-253, 258, 263 Sightseeing, as a social act, 7 1-80, 89, 93, 96, 98, 99, 159, 162, 180, 195, 196, 197,259 Significant syi11bols, 19-21, 265-269 Simso, L. M., 64 Sirnmel, G., 8 1 Simon, 11. A., 206-207 Singh, I-I., 52 Smith, A., 259 Social act, description of the theoiy, 1619, 262-265 Social position, dclini~iunof; 17 Social Representations, 36-45, 52, 102, 103, 152, 160, 167, 178, 184 Stone, C. A., 260 Strauss, A. L., 43 Strean1 of thought, 13, 46, 206, 208, 209, 239, 241, 256, 265-269 Symbolic resources, 36-39,45, 48, 6 1, 156, 159,203,206,264 Tajfel, H., 193 Tannel; L. N., 156 Tayloi-,J . F!, 121 "They," 47, 99, 101, 127, 152, 153, 161, 179, 153, 241, 242, 243, 244,246,248 Tilley, C., 75, 83 Traces, definition of, 158-160 Turner, E., 62 Turnel; L., 5 1 Turner, V., 62 Uexkiill, V. J., 7 Urry, J., 51, 64, 81, 83 Urry, J., 5 1, 64, 8 1, 83 Valsiner, J., 36, 46, 59, 156, 199, 207, 209,227,253,260,266, 268 van Beek, M., 147, 189, 190

Van der Veer, R., 46, 156, 209 Voelldein, C., 39 Vygotsky, L. S., 207, 260, 261 Wagner, W., 152, 203, 220 Wang, N., 73 Wangyal, S., 52, 147 Watson, J. B., 206

Werner, H., 25 Wertsch, J. V., 2 12, 260 Wessels, C., 55 Whiten, A., 44 Whyte, W. F., 43

Zittoun, T, 36, 38, 60, 266